FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM  TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

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CHRIST  IN  THE 


JAN  4  1937 


SERMONS. 


WITH    A    SELECTION    OF    POEMS. 


"     sis 

EDMUND   H.   SEARS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  HEART  OF  CHRIST,"  "REGENERATION, 
ETC. 


BOSTON: 
LOCKWOOD,    BROOKS,   AND    COMPANY. 

1877. 


Copyright,  1876, 
By   LOCKWOOD,  BROOKS,  &   CO. 


Franklin  Press:   Rand,  Avery,  &  Co.,  Boston, 


PREFACE. 


MR.  SEARS  wrote  for  a  previous  publication, 
entitled  "  Sermons  and  Songs  of  the  Christian 
Life','  a  preface,  much  of  which  would  apply  equally 
well  to  the  contents  of  this  present  volume.  In 
regard  to  his  sermons,  he  stated  that  he  assumed  the 
fundamental  facts  of  the  gospel  history  as  premises 
acknowledged  by  the  congregation  ;  and  that  he  did 
not  regard  it  as  the  province  of  a  sermon  to  try  to 
prove  these  facts,  that  task  belonging  to  works  of 
another  kind.  The  sermons  were  written,  not  for 
the  press,  but  for  the  pulpit ;  and  he  did  not  attempt 
to  revise  them  to  the  standard  of  classical  taste,  be- 
lieving that  they  might  by  such  revision  lose  in  point 
and  directness.  This  volume  has  had  none  of  the 
care  which  Mr.  Sears  bestowed  on  his  published 
writings,  every  thing  being  printed  just  as  left  by 
him. 

He  believed  that  every  Christian  should  have 
church  relations,  and  be  faithful  to  them  ;  and  he 
always  studied  to  render  faithful  service  to  the 
denomination  where  Providence  had  placed  him,  not 


PREFACE. 


by  trying  to  conform  to  the  average  opinions  of  the 
denomination,  but  by  trying  to  grasp  and  bring 
forth  anew  the  vital  truths  essential  alike  to  individ- 
ual progress  and  denominational  life.  In  the  fulfil- 
ment of  this  high  purpose,  he  often  found  himself 
standing  almost  alone  ;  and  this  isolation  was  deeply 
painful  to  him.  Not  that  his  courage  ever  faltered. 
His  life  was  marked  by  many  an  act  of  independence, 
as  fearless  and  resolute  as  his  declaration  from  the  pul- 
pit that  he  would  not  obey  the  fugitive  slave  law  ;  and 
he  was  ever  active  in  the  discharge  of  all  the  duties 
of  citizenship,  and  many  times  threw  his  whole  influ- 
ence in  opposition  to  his  warmest  friends.  But  few 
knew  how  much  his  independence  cost  him.  He 
was  acutely  sensitive,  shrinking  from  an  unkind  criti- 
cism, dreading  publicity,  self-depreciating,  retiring, 
though  not  reserved,  in  disposition.  In  his  latest 
years,  when  he  most  longed  for  sympathy  and  fellow- 
ship, the  deep  convictions  to  which  long  years  of 
patient  study  had  brought  him,  and  his  position  as 
one  of  the  editors  of  the  "  Monthly  Religious  Maga- 
zine!' made  him  a  leader  in  the  contest  between  the 
extremes  of  the  denomination  with  which  he  acted. 
His  disposition  was  unswervingly  just ;  and  he  always 
took  the  greatest  pains  not  to  misrepresent  the  views, 
nor  impugn  the  motives,  of  any  person  ;  but  he  had  a 
keen  eye  for  the  weak  points  of  an  argument,  and 
ready  powers  of  debate  and  satire.     How  unreservedly 


PREFACE. 


he  threw  himself  into  the  conflict,  the  pages  of  the 
"Magazine"  bear  record.  He  did  not  escape  the 
harsh  criticism  and  the  misrepresentation  that  he 
expected ;  but  these  roused  no  bitterness  in  his  spirit, 
and  he  never,  for  merely  personal  reasons,  replied  to 
any  attack.  If  at  times  his  words  seemed  sharp  and 
emphatic,  they  were  the  expression  of  earnest  feeling 
and  strong  conviction,  never  of  intolerance  nor  un- 
kindness. 

Mr.  Sears  was  best  known  as  a  preacher  and  a 
writer  on  religious  themes  ;  but  the  wide  variety  of 
his  studies  occasionally  tempted  him  into  other  fields 
of  literature,  where  he  always  met  with  some  degree 
of  success.  But  working  always  with  a  definite  plan 
and  purpose,  he  would  spare  but  little  time  for  any 
thing  not  included  in  his  plan  of  study.  His  his- 
torical lecture,  "  The  Saxon  and  the  Norman"  was 
many  times  delivered,  and  was  well  received  ;  and  it 
is  here  printed  in  the  hope  that  it  may  add  to  the 
attractiveness  of  the  volume. 

Mr.  Sears  was  exceedingly  fond  of  poetry ;  and  his 
powers  of  memory,  naturally  strong,  had  from  his 
earliest  years,  been  trained  to  an  unusual  degree  of 
perfection ;  so  that  his  mind  was  richly  stored  with 
the  best  poetry  of  more  than  one  language.  In  times 
when  he  was  compelled  to  rest  from  his  severer  labors, 
his  own  thought  frequently  found  expression  in  verse. 
A  large,  perhaps  the  larger  portion  of  his  poems  has 


PREFACE. 


never  been  printed;  as  his  judgment  of  his  work, 
as  well  as  of  himself,  was  always  severe,  and  his 
verse  was  often  the  revelation  of  his  innermost  expe- 
rience. Several  poems  already  printed,  but  not  con- 
tained in  any  previous  volume,  have  been  collected 
in  the  following  pages  ;  and  a  few  are  here  for  the 
first  time  given  to  the  public. 

In  the  original  plan  of  this  volume,  it  was  proposed 
to    include   a   short  memoir  of   Mr.    Sears,  giving  a 
sketch    of   his    early  life,  of   which  he  himself  once 
wrote  a   fragmentary  but  graphic  account.     But  no 
man  ever  more  carefully  avoided  bringing  into  promi- 
nence   his   own    personality;    and    he    needs   neither 
eulogy  nor  vindication.     All  that  he  was,  he  made 
himself  by  systematic  and  untiring  industry,  and  by 
concentration  of  all  his  powers  in  lofty  aims.     If  his 
life  has  any  lessons  for  others,  those  lessons  are  con- 
tained in  his  own  words,  into  which  he  put  his  very 
life.     It  was  a  simple  life  of  duty,  of  unceasing  toil 
and  activity,— a  life  kept  unspotted  from  the  world, 
and  consecrated  without  reserve  to  high  and  unselfish 
ends.     During    his  last  long  and  painful  illness,  he 
said  that  he  had  finished  nearly  all  the  work  he  had 
ever  planned.     If  his  life  were  spared,  he  saw  plenty 
of  work  that  he  might  do,  but  he  did  not  wish  to  stay 
here,  and  live  an  idle  life,  nor  to  be  a  care  to  others. 
In   the  year  1862  he  was  very  sick,  and  doubtful  of 
recovery.       His    calm    resignation    at    that    time,    is 


PREFACE. 


shown  by  his  verses  written  then,  "  Away  from 
Church"  But  he  had  plans  for  work  which  would, 
as  he  thought,  require  from  ten  to  fifteen  years  of 
active  life  ;  and  he  would  be  glad  to  stay,  and  complete 
it.  His  prayer  had  been  answered,  and  he  would 
not  again  ask  for  longer  life.  So  his  work  was 
finished ;  and  very  weak,  and  suffering  •  much  in 
body,  but  with  intellectual  powers  undimmed,  and 
with  trustful  spirit,  he  lay  waiting  for  the  summons 
to  a  higher  life.  A  few  hours  before  his  death,  when 
his  physical  agony  was  sore,  and  his  faculties  of 
speech  and  hearing  were  failing,  he  was  asked  by 
one  of  those  around  him,  if  he  wanted  any  thing. 
With  great  effort,  he  spoke  one  word,  "  Rest."  Soon 
he  passed  from  that  chamber  of  awful  suffering,  to 
find  the  rest  which  even  they  who  most  loved  him 
here  were  powerless  to  give.  On  the  stone  above 
the  spot  where  his  worn-out  mortal  body  lies  sleep- 
ing, are  graven  the  words  of  the  Master  to  whose 
cause  he  gave  loving  service,  —  "  He  that  overcometh, 
the  same  shall  be  clothed  in  white  raiment  ;  and  I 
will  confess  his  name  before  my  Father,  and  before 
his  angels." 


CONTENTS. 


SERMONS 


Elijah  .... 

David     .... 

Tibni  and  Omri     . 

Pilate   .... 

The  Gourd 

Spiritual  Resurrection 

Conversion 

Self-Consecration    . 

Conditions  of  Spiritual  Progress 

Success 

The  Three  Advents 

Progress 

The  Thrones  in  Heaven 

Peace  by  Power 

The  Atonement    . 

The  Trinity    . 

The  Divine  Friendships 

Encouragements 


PAGE. 
I 

12 

*3 

33 
43 
54 
65 
75 
86 

97 
112 
127 
140 

ISO 

161 
171 
185 
195 


THE   SAXON   AND   THE   NORMAN 


205 


CONTENTS. 


POETRY. 

Emancipation  .... 

"Old  John  Brown" 

Song  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes    .... 

Song  for  July  4,  1861     . 

The  Home  Guard      .... 

How  Gold  may  be  kept  Bright 

Golden  Mean  .... 

Serenity     .... 

Old  England  and  New 

Ode  for  the  Union  College  Celebration  . 

Ordination  Hymn      .... 

Hymn    for   the   Fiftieth  Anniversary  of  the   Settle 

ment  at  Weston  of  Rev.  Joseph  Field,  D.D 
Golden- Wedding  Hymn 
A  Greeting  from  the  Sunday  School 
Calm  at  Sea   ..... 
Dirge  .... 

Guardian  Angels       .... 
In  Sickness  .... 

Away  from  Church  .  . 

"Show  us  the  Father" 
Two  Spirit  Worlds  .... 
My  Psalm    . 


PAGE 
241 
242 
244 
246 
247 
248 
249 
25O 
252 

254 
256 

258 

259 
26l 
263 
266 
267 
268 
270 
273 
275 
277 


SERMONS 


ELIJAH. 


2  Kings  II  :  n  :  "Behold,  there  appeared  a  chariot  of  fire,  and  horses  of 
fire,  and  Elijah  went  up  by  a  whirlwind  into  heaven." 

Matthew  XVII:  3:  "Behold,  there  appeared  unto  them  Moses  and 
Elijah  talking  with  him." 

MOSES  and  Elijah  talking  with  Jesus!  The 
names  which  represent  three  dispensations, 
appearing  in  close  relationship  at  the  consummation 
of  them  all,  —  the  dispensation  of  law,  of  prophecy, 
and  of  the  gospel  which  was  the  fulfilment  of  the 
other  two.  The  passages  are  wonderfully  suggestive 
to  us  of  the  connection  of  events,  and  the  relations 
which  the  most  distant  periods  of  time  hold  to  each 
other,  if  only  we  could  see  things  from  the  other 
side,  where  in  the  angelic  vision  they  blend  together 
in  harmony. 

The  history  of  Elijah  the  Tishbite  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  portions  of  the  Old  Testament  nar- 
ratives. It  has  furnished  the  grandest  material,  not 
only  for  the  song  and  the  sermon,  but  for  the  painter 
and  the  dramatist ;  and  the  character  depicted  has 
been  held  up  as  a  model  to  the  reformers  of  all  ages. 


ELIJAH. 


I  propose  this  morning  to  unfold  some  of  the  lessons 
which  come  from  this  history,  —  lessons  historical, 
moral,  and  spiritual. 

i.  The  first  pertains  to  the  authority  of  the  record, 
and  the  place  which  the  Bible  holds  amid  the  changes 
of  human  creeds  and  opinions.  Fifty  years  ago  it 
was  taken  as  the  most  literal  history,  even  to  the 
going  up  of  Elijah  in  bodily  form,  chariot  and  all,  to 
a  local  heaven  in  the  sky.  This  and  all  the  miracles 
of  the  Old  Testament  narratives  were  taken  in  the 
baldest  literal  sense,  from  the  manufacture  of  Adam 
out  of  clay,4  down  to  the  preservation  of  the  three  men 
in  the  furnace  of  fire.  The  Old  Testament  embodied 
the  science,  the  history,  the  chronology,  the  ethics  of 
the  times,  such  as  our  grandfathers  held  them,  and 
such  as  no  discoveries,  they  thought,  were  ever  to 
change  or  modify.  Then  followed  an  era  of  research, 
of  criticism,  of  scientific  analysis,  and  science  ap- 
pears, with  a  good  deal  of  conceit,  penetrates  the 
heavens  where  Elijah  went  up,  and  finds  no  place  for 
him  or  his  chariot ;  pushes  back  the  history  of  man 
away  beyond  Adam  and  Eve  ;  experiments  largely  on 
caloric,  and  finds  that  the  human  form  cannot  exist 
in  a  furnace  made  seven  times  hotter  than  red-hot 
iron.  Hence  came  the  disparagement  and  the  neg- 
lect of  the  Old  Testament ;  its  history  being  treated 
as  myth  and  fable,  and  its  miracles  at  one  with  the 
old  mythologies  of  India  or  Greece.     Such  are  two 


ELIJAH. 


periods  in  the  history  of  opinion  and  criticism,  —  one 
the  period  of  blind  faith,  the  other  of  blind  scepti- 
cism. A  third  period  has  already  dawned.  Science 
—  the  most  advanced  science,  science  that  penetrates 
not  only  downward  into  the  earth,  but  upward  also 
into  mind  and  spirit  —  has  found  that  the  sceptics 
knew  less  about  miracles  than  they  supposed ;  yea, 
that  when  you  get  through  the  crust  of  matter,  all  is 
miracle ;  and  that  when  the  laws  of  mind  as  well  as 
of  matter  begin  to  be  understood,  and  all  their  inter- 
blendings  and  inter-actings,  and  the  laws  of  the  spirit- 
world  within  the  natural,  science  has  only  begun  to 
give  us  the  stammerings  of  knowledge,  stumbling  on 
facts  all  the  while  which  open  the  old  Bible  anew,  and 
give  even  to  its  miracles  a  sacredness  and  a  signifi- 
cance they  never  had  before.  One  of  the  most  scien- 
tific men  of  the  age  —  a  man  whose  science  goes  not 
only  downward  into  matter,  but  upward  into  mind  and 
spirit,  says,  "  Nothing  is  more  evident  to-day,  than 
that  the  men  of  facts  are  afraid  of  a  large  number  of 
important  facts.  All  the  spiritual  facts,  of  which 
there  are  plenty  in  every  age,  are  denounced  as  super- 
stition :  large-wigged  science  takes  off  its  hat  to  a 
new  beetle  or  a  fresh  vegetable  alkali,  and  behaves 
worse  to  our  ancestors  than  to  our  vermin.  Evidence 
on  spiritual  subjects  is  regarded  as  an  impertinence, 
so  timorous  are  they,  and  so  morbidly  fearful  of 
ghosts.     They   are   attentive   enough   to   a  class   of 


ELIJAH. 


facts  that  nobody  values,  —  to  beetles,  spiders,  and 
fossils ;  but  as  to  those  dear  facts  that  common  men 
and  women  in  all  time  and  place  have  found  full  of 
wonder  and  interest  and  importance,  they  show  them 
a  deaf  ear  and  a  callous  heart." 

It  is  the  science  that  only  looks  earthward,  and 
sees  only  one  class  of  facts,  that  derides  the  miracles 
of  revelation,  and  thinks  the  Bible  obsolete.  By  the 
science  that  looks  both  upward  and  downward,  some 
of  the  miracles  of  the  Old  Testament  are  not  only 
restored  to  their  place  in  a  system  of  Divine  Revela- 
tions, but  are  looked  upon  as  avouching  realities 
whose  sweep  and  grandeur  our  fathers  in  their  nar- 
row literalism  could  hardly  have  discerned. 

2.  For  the  interior  and  more  close  relationship 
between  the  Old  Testament  and  the  New  is  more 
apparent.  It  is  Moses  and  Elijah  talking  with  Christ. 
It  is  the  three  dispensations  which  they  represent, 
seen  as  one  continuous  system  of  Providence,  like  the 
stalk,  the  branches,  and  the  flowers  of  the  plant,  all  of 
them  alike  essential  in  producing  the  golden  fruit  of 
the  tree  of  life.  The  Old  Testament  miracles  and  the 
New  often  tend  to  mutual  explanation,  and  flash  light 
one  upon  the  other;  showing  the  former  as  only 
gleams  through  partial  openings,  which  in  the  new 
dispensation  are  more  broadly  effulgent.  You  will 
not  fail  to  trace  the  analogy  between  the  miracles  of 
Elijah  and  those  of  Christ ;  between  the  ascent  of 


ELIJAH.  5 


Elijah  from  Mount  Carmel  and  that  of  Jesus  from 
Mount  Olivet ;  between  the  imagery  of  the  prophetic 
narrative,  —  the  chariots  of  fire  and  the  horses  of  fire, 
—  and  the  imagery  of  Saint  John  in  the  Revelation, 
who  describes  in  vision  the  agencies  of  the  Divine 
Providence,  —  the  God  in  history  moving  behind  the 
veil  of  sense  and  matter.  So  striking  is  the  analogy, 
that  Strauss  has  tried  to  show  that  the  New  Testa- 
ment writers  constructed  their  narrative  with  the 
story  of  Elijah  for  their  model,  —  that  Mount  Sinai 
has  its  parallel  in  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  and 
that  Carmel  has  its  parallel  in  Olivet. 

3.  But  the  character  of  Elijah  as  the  reformer  of 
his  times,  standing  forth  in  such  bold  relief  amid  the 
corruptions  of  his  age,  furnishes  the  third  important 
lesson  that  comes  from  the  narrative.  That  he  is  a 
real  character,  and  no  myth  or  invention,  is  plain ;  for 
no  romancer  of  that  age  could  have  invented  all  the 
granite  that  was  in  him.  To  understand  him  well,  we 
must  have  a  picture  of  the  times  he  lived  in.  We 
must  know  who  was  Jezebel,  and  who  were  the  false 
prophets  whom  she  brought  into  Judaea  to  supplant 
the  Hebrew  religion  and  abolish  the  worship  of  one 
God  for  the  worship  of  Baal.  She  was  a  woman  from 
Sidon,  where  Baal  was  worshipped,  —  a  woman  beau- 
tiful and  accomplished ;  but  it  was  the  beauty  of  the 
tigress,  which  concealed  all  subtlety  and  cruelty. 
Baal  was  the  sun ;  and  his  rites  of  worship  involved 


ELIJAH. 


the  worst  abominations.  The  blood  of  human  victims 
smoked  upon  his  altars.  Astarte,  or  the  moon,  was 
also  worshipped.  Her  altars  were  in  the  groves ;  and 
in  them  the  rites  of  lust  were  sheltered  and  made 
sacred.  This  was  the  Sidonian  worship,  now  becom- 
ing the  established  religion  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel ; 
and  four  hundred  of  its  blood-stained  prophets  were  fed 
at  Jezebel's  table.  The  prophets  of  the  Lord  had  been 
slain,  or  had  compromised,  or  had  escaped  for  their 
lives.  One  prophet  stands  out  as  the  last  embodiment 
of  the  Hebrew  religion,  —  one  man  standing  for  the 
truth,  against  the  government  and  all  its  retainers  who 
had  given  in  to  the  gory  rites  of  human  sacrifice.  The 
worship  of  one  God,  to  all  human  appearance,  is  about 
to  be  extinguished  in  the  blood  of  his  own  prophets. 
To  understand  the  miracles  which  Elijah  now  wrought, 
we  must  remember  what  he  represents.  The  agen- 
cies of  the  Divine  Providence  centre  in  him,  and  circle 
about  him.  He  stands  at  the  point  where  the  influx 
of  heaven  itself  meets  the  efflux  of  hell.  The  long 
line  of  future  events,  in  which  are  the  Christ  and  his 
gospel  and  a  world's  redemption,  hangs  now  upon  his 
person.  It  is  just  that  crisis  where  the  invisible 
armies,  which  are  generally  veiled,  come  partially  into 
view,  —  where  the  veil  of  sense  becomes  semi-trans- 
parent, and  gives  gleams  of  the  God  and  his  angels, 
who  are  always  nigh.  Numbers  become  of  no  account. 
One  man  is  as  good  as  a  million  where  he  stands  for 


ELIJAH. 


a  great  truth,  and  is  clothed  in  its  authority  and 
majesty ;  and  a  whole  myriad  who  represent  some 
falsity  of  to-day  shrink  into  their  contemptible  indi- 
vidualism, and  the  stream  of  Providence  washes  them 
away  like  sand.  This  is  what  makes  Elijah  stand 
.forth  in  such  bold  relief,  and  all  the  miracles  at  his 
hand  take  on  a  divine  significance.  Even  where  we 
cannot  verify  the  literal  fact,  the  miracle  loses  none  of 
its  meaning.  That  the  fire  came  down  from  heaven 
upon  his  altar ;  that  within  the  wind,  the  earthquake, 
and  the  fire,  he  heard  the  still  small  voice  of  the  Lord, 
which  spake  to  the  inward  ear ;  that  years  of  famine 
and  years  of  plenty,  and  showers  from  the  sea,  fore- 
shadowed themselves  upon  his  spirit  whose  ear  caught 
the  whispers  of  the  Lord  which  foretoken  what  is  to 
be,  —  all  this  becomes  credible  when  we  reproduce 
to  ourselves  the  times,  and  the  man  who  stood  as  the 
last  embodiment  of  the  Divine  Providence.  And  with 
what  power  and  grandeur  does  it  clothe  him,  with 
what  a  moral  heroism,  when  he  represents  not  him- 
self, but  a  great'  truth  in  its  majesty  !  Ahab  and  all 
the  military  force  of  his  kingdom  are  arrayed  on  one 
side;  the  prophet  clothed  in  skins,  with  a  leathern 
girdle,  is  on  the  other.  And  yet  royalty  in  its  fine 
robes  cowers  before  him ;  and  you  feel,  on  reading  the 
story,  that  the  prophet  is  king,  and  the  monarch  is  his 
vassal.  Such  is  the  supremacy  of  ideas  over  brute 
force;   and  such  the  royalty  of  truth,  which  no  mean- 


ELIJAH. 


ness  of  outward  attire  can  ever  conceal,  but  which 
rather  in  such  disguise  shines  more  in  unborrowed 
splendor. 

4.  But  we  come  to  another  and  most  important 
lesson  which  this  whole  history  brings  home  to  us. 
It  is  the  invisible  Divine  Protection  which  is  thrown 
around  every  one  who  has  a  mission  in  the  world, 
who  has  a  Divine  Idea,  and  tries  to  live  it  and  put  it 
into  action.  We  talk  very  crudely,  I  think,  about  the 
dispensations  of  Providence.  The  invisible  guards, 
the  horses  of  fire,  are  about  the  men  who  look  for 
the  leadings  of  Providence,  and  try  to  follow  them. 
-J—  There  is  no  one  who  has  not  some  mission  in  this 
world,  some  duty  to  his  times,  and  some  Christian 
work  in  it ;  and  the  doctrine  which  the  text  enforces 
is,  that  he  who  works  with  Providence,  works  with  an 
invisible  army  that  engirds  him,  and  moves  with  him. 
He  never  works  alone.  He  may  seem  to  come  into 
danger  and  to  death  ;  but  the  danger  and  the  death  are 
apparent,  and  not  real.  The  engirding  and  guiding 
Providence  is  with  him  ;  while  with  others  it  is  only 
the  Providence  that  permits,  and  finally  brushes  them 
out  of  its  way.  And  yet  how  often  in  our  noise  and 
bustle  and  conceit  do  we  ignore  these  invisible 
agencies,  and  claim  their  victory  as  ours  !  We  do  not 
see  the  Lord  in  the  conflict  because  of  the  dust  we 
raise  about  us. 


ELIJAH.  9 

How  silent  move  thy  chariot-wheels 

Along  our  camping-ground, 
Whose  thickly-folding  smoke  conceals 

Thy  camp  of  fire  around  ! 

We  tremble  in  the  battle's  roar, 

Are  brave  amid  its  calm  ; 
And,  when  the  fearful  fight  is  o'er, 

We  snatch  thy  victor-palm. 

There  is  no  loneliness,  no  desertion,  no  solitude,  to 
the  man  who  has  not  only  faith  in  Providence,  but 
who  is  doing  Providential  work  at  the  same  time.  A 
great  company  is  with  him,  —  with  him  for  the  best 
and  highest  purposes,  as  much  as  if  he  saw  them. 
Yea,  sometimes  at  difficult  turns  he  will  have  a  vivid 
consciousness  of  the  fact ;  and  it  is  this  consciousness 
which  gives  to  moral  courage  all  the  real  lustre  which 
it  has.  If  you  would  have  this  perception  of  the 
invisible  presences,  and  this  sense  of  eternal  security, 
I  pray  you  do  not  rest  merely  with  a  faith  in  Provi- 
dence. Everybody  has  that,  and  has  talked  it  till  it 
is  stale.  Do  something!  Do  something  that  will 
bring  you  within  the  living  stream  of  Providence,  so 
that  it  will  bear  you  up  on  its  currents,  and,  the 
navies  of  heaven  riding  with  you,  bear  you  along  upon 
its  waves. 

5.  One  more  lesson.  The  light  which  our  subject 
sheds  around  the  dread  fact  which  we  call  death  is 
of    exceeding    interest.      That    the    ascent   of     the 


io  ELIJAH. 

prophet  into  heaven  was  like  the  ascension  of  Christ, 
is  very  true ;  and  the  sceptical  critics  are  so  far  right. 
Yea,  further,  it  is  like  the  transition  of  every  good 
man  to  immortality.  It  is  plain,  if  you  read  the  nar- 
rative carefully,  that  the  prophet  died  as  other  men 
die :  only  in  his  case  we  have  a  gleam  from  the  other 
side  through  the  opening,  and  see  what  is  beyond. 
"  I  pray  thee,"  said  Elisha,  "that,  when  thou  art  taken 
from  me,  a  double  portion  of  thy  spirit  may  be  with 
me." — "If  thou  see  me  when  I  am  taken  up,"  said 
Elijah,  "it  shall  be  so  :  if  not,  it  shall  not  be  so."  In 
other  words,  "  If,  when  my  spirit  leaves  its  clay,  you 
can  see  me  and  follow  me,  that  will  show  you  that 
you  are  indeed  a  prophet  like  me,  and  that  a  prophet's 
vision  has  been  given  you  of  the  things  beyond  the 
veil  of  time  and  mortality."  And  so  it  was.  The 
invisible  agencies  that  had  been  around  him  in  his 
fight  with  wrong  and  had  given  him  the  victory,  gave 
him  the  victory  over  death  ;  the  horses  of  fire  and  the 
chariots  of  fire  symbolizing  the  triumph  which  greets 
the  true  servant  of  God  on  the  other  side  of  the 
grave.  What  a  rebuke  to  our  timid  and  halting  faith, 
which  peoples  the  other  side  with  spectres,  and  this 
side  only  with  realities !  Happy  will  it  be,  if,  when 
our  work  is  done,  death  as  well  as  life  shall  be  within 
the  protecting  and  guiding  Providence  which  shall 
make  our  place  of  transition  like  the  heights  of 
Carmel. 


ELIJAH. 


Let  us  remember  that  God  has  no  favored  ones ; 
that  the  laws  of  his  providence  are  universal  and  all- 
pervading,  just  as  active  around  the  humblest  individ- 
ual to-day  as  around  the  Elijahs  and  the  Christ  long 
ago  ;  that  the  Carmels  and  the  Olivets  of  history  only 
reveal  to  us  the  realities  that  always  are,  and  the 
helpers  that  are  always  nigh.  Do  something.  Do 
something  that  brings  thee  within  the  loving  folds  of 
that  Providence.  Do  not  stand  indolent  outside,  to  be 
swept  out  of  its  way  into  the  darkness  and  the  cold. 


DAVID. 


Heb.  XI.  32  :  "  The  time  would  fail  me  to  tell  of  David." 

HE  seems  to  have  been  made  up  of  two  men. 
He  was  a  man  after  God's  own  heart.  His 
kingdom  prefigured  that  of  the  Messiah,  so  that 
Christ  is  called  the  Son  of  David.  He  was  the  most 
inspired  genius  of  the  old  dispensation ;  and  his 
psalms  are  pitched  to  a  strain  so  lofty  and  sweet,  that 
they  enter  largely  into  the  Christian  ritual,  as  if  they 
furnished  to  all  after-ages  the  richest  language  for  a 
fervent  devotion.  But  turn  back  this  old  history, 
and  who  is  this  man  after  God's  own  heart  ?  Time 
certainly  would  fail  to  tell  of  his  crimes,  —  his  treach- 
eries, his  murders,  his  adulteries,  his  grovellings  in 
the  very  sty  of  sensuality.  Murder  is  too  mild  a 
word.  His  butcheries  of  the  Canaanites  were  so 
manifold,  that  when  he  had  killed  them  off,  —  men 
and  women,  and  little  children,  —  his  hands  were  too 
red  to  build  the  temple,  and  the  work  was  deferred 
till  Solomon's  reign.  And  this  is  the  man  who  wrote 
the  Twenty-third  Psalm  :  "  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd ; 
I  shall  not  want." 


DAVID.  13 


"  Green  pastures  and  still  waters  "  reached  through 
crime  and  slaughter,  —  that  has  been  the  mystery 
ever  since,  and  has  prompted  the  question,  how  the 
moralities  of  the  old  Bible  are  to  be  reconciled  with 
the  pure  morality  of  the  new,  or,  indeed,  with  the 
demands  of  the  pure,  absolute  religion  of  humanity. 
Time  certainly  would  fail  to  tell  of  David. 

At  the  same  time,  his  history,  dark  and  bright,  is 
bound  up  together  in  this  old  Bible  ;  and  it  brings  to 
view  a  feature  of  revelation  which  we  are  very  apt 
to  undervalue,  and  which  sceptics,  I  think,  entirely 
misapprehend.  "Why,"  said  an  objector,  "there  are 
passages  in  the  Bible  which  would  not  bear  to  be 
read  aloud  in  any  decent  society,"  I  certainly  should 
hope  they  never  would  be.  But  it  does  not  occur  to 
these  objectors,  that  the  Bible  is  not  only  a  revelation 
of  God,  but  a  revelation  of  man,  —  a  disclosure,  on 
the  one  hand,  of  human  nature,  opening  up  its  lowest 
deeps  into  the  light  of  day  ;  and  a  disclosure,  on  the 
other,  of  the  Divine  character  and  attributes  shining 
down  into  those  deeps,  to  show  their  quality,  and 
search  out  the  lowest  depravities  of  man.  So  there 
is  just  this  parallelism  running  through  the  Bible, 
and  especially  the  old  Bible,  from  beginning  to  end. 
It  is  a  book  of  human  nature,  that  opens  up  from  the 
lowest  abyss  ;  and  a  book  of  prophecies,  that  pours 
down  into  that  abyss  the  splendors  of  the  Divine  face, 
and  the  denunciations  of  the  Divine  Word.     What  a 


14  DAVID. 


Bible  human  wit  would  have  contrived  for  us  !  Like 
one  of  the  rose-colored  novels,  all  of  which  could  be 
read  aloud,  and  admired  for  once,  and  then  laid  on 
the  shelf  forever. 

Time  would  fail  to  tell  of  David ;  but  he  is  a  largely 
representative  man,  —  one  of  the  most  religious  men 
that  ever  lived,  and,  withal,  the  most  sensual ;  the 
most  tender-hearted,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most 
cruel ;  and,  as  such,  he  is  a  lesson  to  all  times  and 
ages.  We  will  open  this  book  of  human  nature, 
and  draw  out  some  of  its  lessons,  and  apply  them, 
and  show  how  the  Bible  should  be  used  as  a  help  in 
the  religious  life. 

i.  The  first  lesson  is  that  of  devotion  divorced 
from  morality,  —  worship  so  absorbed  in  the  praise  of 
God  as  to  be  oblivious  of  the  rights  and  the  sufferings 
of  men.  The  possibility  of  this  wide  separation  be- 
tween worship  and  morality  is  held  aloft  as  a  warn- 
ing, and  in  contrast  with  what  true  worship  should  be. 
"Put  Uriah  in  the  forefront  of  the  hottest  battle,  and 
then  retire  from  him,  that  he  may  be  smitten,  and 
die."  David  did  not  perceive  this  to  be  murder,  be- 
cause it  was  taking  the  life  of  another  indirectly  and 
circuitously,  and  in  away  that  did  not  violate  the  rules 
of  war,  and  the  regulations  of  the  army.  He  would 
have  shrunk  with  horror  at  the  idea  of  private  assas- 
sination ;  and  so  he  reaches  the  same  end  indirectly, 
with  no  sense  of  guilt  upon  his  conscience.     It  is  the 


DAVID.  15 


same  mistake  which  moral  men  and  religious  men 
are  very  liable  to  fall  into.  The  violation  of  the 
neighbor's  rights  very  often  goes  for  nothing,  provided 
the  means  are  circuitous,  and  not  direct ;  done  accord- 
ing to  received  moral  codes,  and  not  by  gross  personal 
assault  and  robbery;  done  according  to  law,  not 
against  law.  If  my  neighbor  has  something  which  I 
covet  myself,  I  shall  not  probably  break  into  his 
house,  or  waylay  him  in  the  dark.  I  am  too  civilized 
for  that.  I  shall  rather  blind  his  eyes  to  the  value 
of  things,  and  get  it  from  him  by  the  rules  of  trade 
and  bargain,  and  under  the  glamour  of  false  appear- 
ances, rather  than  the  darkness  of  the  night.  And, 
having  largely  supplied  myself  in  that  way,  I  shall 
be  ready  for  a  psalm  of  thanksgiving,  "  The  Lord  is 
my  Shepherd ;  I  shall  not  want."  The  real  nature  of 
the  crime  is  concealed  under  the  complications  of  the 
means  through  which  the  end  is  reached ;  and  yet,  to 
Him  who  looks  through  all  disguises,  it  is  the  same 
thing  under  a  more  respectable  name.  In  our  civil- 
ized moralities  we  never  kill  men  outright  in  order  to 
get  their  money.  We  build  cheap  houses,  amid 
marshes  and  miasmas,  and  rent  them  at  high  rates  to 
the  poor,  whose  families  die  off  by  pestilence.  And 
from  the  fruits  of  this  slaughtering,  Christian  men 
lie  down  in  green  pastures. 

2.  And,  again,  devotion  may  be  so  exclusive  and 
absorbing  as  to  preclude  all  knowledge  of  ourselves. 


1 6  DAVID. 


We  may  be  so  intent  on  praising  God  as  to  leave  no 
room  for  thorough  self-examination ;  and  then  we  may 
fall  into  the  delusion  that  God  is  so  flattered  with  our 
exaltations  of  his  excellencies,  that  He  will  not  hold 
us  to  a  very  strict  account,  and  we  may  live  in  igno- 
rance of  what  we  really  are.  And  without  this  self- 
analysis,  we  may  see  faults  in  our  neighbors,  and  even 
be  indignant  for  what  they  do,  when  we  practise  the 
same  things  ourselves,  though  with  some  change  of 
circumstance  and  occasion. 

Wcfrship,  when  genuine,  has  a  twofold  office.  It 
draws  us  up  into  the  Divine  communion,  and  brings 
thence  the  light  of  the  Divine  Justice  searching  out 
all  the  hiding-places  of  the  heart,  thus  revealing  us 
true  under  the  light  of  the  Divine  countenance.  We 
can  praise  God,  and  admire  his  power  and  magnifi- 
cence, and  be-sing  his  glories,  without  any  of  this 
reflex  influence  that  searches  out  our  own  sins,  and 
illumes  all  the  pages  of  our  book  of  life  within.  Such 
was  David's  state  sometimes,  amid  all  his  psalms  and 
hallelujahs.  And  while  he  is  in  this  state  of  mind, 
Nathan  comes  to  him  with  a  message.  And  Nathan 
supposes  a  case.  It  is  the  parable  of  the  rich  man 
with  many  flocks  and  herds,  who  took  the  poor  man's 
lamb,  the  only  one  he  had,  and  killed  it,  and  dressed  it 
for  his  table.  David's  indignation  is  greatly  kindled 
at  such  meanness.  He  was  going  away,  very  likely,  to 
write  a  psalm  about  it,  and  would  probably  have  turned 


DA  VID.  1 7 


Nathan's  touching  parable  into-  a  splendid  lyric  for 
the  temple,  to  be  set  to  music,  and  to  chant  the  Divine 
judgment  against  oppression.  But  wait  a  moment, 
says  the  prophet.  And  then  he  takes  the  picture, 
and  writes  under  it  "  David."  And  the  psalm  was 
turned  into  a  penitential  wail,  "  My  soul  is  full  of 
trouble.     All  thy  billows  have  gone  over  me." 

3.  And  here  comes  another  lesson  out  of  these 
chapters  of  human  nature.  We  are  very  apt  to  fall 
into  the  mistake,  that  it  is  the  grossness  of  sin  that 
makes  it  past  forgiveness,  —  the  sin  that  looks  palpable 
like  a  mountain,  and  is  therefore  hopeless  and  beyond 
recovery.  Yet  here  was  a  man  who  broke  nearly  all 
the  commandments  of  the  Decalogue,  whose  name 
we  find  in  the  New  Testament  numbered  among  the 
saints  of  the  Church  of  God.  The  history  brings  to 
light,  and  makes  conspicuous,  one  of  the  distinc- 
tions in  human  depravity.  There  is  crime  which 
flows  from  overmastering  passion,  where  the  judgment 
is  blinded,  and  the  conscience  intoxicated  without 
being  quenched,  when  the  animal  overcomes  the  man. 
The  moral  and  spiritual  nature  is  not  hardened  and 
fossilized,  but  only  held  in  abeyance  till  it  can  act 
again.  But  when  it  does  act,  there  is  remorse,  and 
acknowledgment  of  guilt,  and  heart-breaking  sorrow, 
and  pity  that  flows  like  rain.  Such  was  David  in  the 
animal  and  spiritual  man  that  made  him  up.  It  is  the 
tenderness  and  moral  sensibility  under  the  depravity, 


18  DAVID. 


—  sensibility  that  the  Divine  Spirit  at  length  takes 
hold  of  to  wash  the  stains  of  guilt  clean  away.  There 
is  another  kind  of  depravity,  —  one  which  comes  not 
from  the  animal  nature,  but  from  a  perverted  spiritual 
nature,  when,  Iago-like,  man  is  turned  into  a  fiend, 
when  evil  is  put  for  good,  and  good  for  evil,  and  repent- 
ance is  impossible  because  there  is  no  tender  spot  in 
the  heart  to  take  hold  of.  These  men  do  not  commit 
crimes  half  so  gross  and  shocking  to  the  ear,  perhaps 
never  commit  any  crimes,  so  cunning  are  they  in 
their  methods,  and  such  are  the  long  underground 
trains  of  evil  where  they  work  out  of  sight,  without 
any  violations  of  law.  These  are  the  sinners  who 
are  hopeless,  and  in  whose  flinty  natures,  worn  smooth 
by  the  impinging  truths  that  pass  over  them,  no 
pulse  is  ever  felt.  We  must  keep  in  mind  these  reve- 
lations of  human  nature  in  the  old  Bible  to  under- 
stand aright  its  punishments  and  rewards,  and  the 
glorious  possibilities  of  the  pardoning  Mercy.  We 
must  interpret  in  the  light  thereof  the  conditions  of 
our  own  pardon,  and  those  of  our  fellow-sinners  as 
well.  The  Sovereign  Grace  can  save  the  chief  of 
sinners  until  the  conscience  is  lost,  and  the  sensibili- 
ties have  turned  into  stone.  This  our  Saviour  calls 
the  sin  against  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  the  sin  unto  death, 
for  which  there  is  no  forgiveness.  That  may  be  com- 
mitted without  any  gross  transgression.  It  is  secret, 
cunning,  subtle,  pursuing  its  ends  through  systematic 


DAVID.  19 


hypocrisies  till  the  conscience  is  put  out,  and  the 
moral  nature  turns  to  marble.  David's  sins  were 
gross  but  not  hypocritical,  those  of  the  animal  rather 
than  of  the  fiend  ;  so  his  compunctions  are  terrible. 
His  remorse  flows  like  a  torrent,  and  his  guilt  is 
washed  away. 

4.  There  is  another  principle  of  exceeding  interest 
which  is  fully  illustrated  in  the  history  of  David. 
His  nature  was  large  and  many-sided,  infested  with 
animal  passions  in  its  lower  range,  and,  in  its  highest 
range,  soaring  into  the  region  of  song,  seizing  the 
most  charming  of  nature's  imagery  to  illustrate  the 
truths  ot  religion,  and  set  forth  the  sentiment  of  devo- 
tion. Hence  he  becomes  the  channel  of  the  Divine 
inspirations.  He  is  just  one  of  those  men  who  speak 
wiser  than  they  know.  His  song  sweeps  heights 
that  he  never  climbed  ;  and  he  became  the  channel 
of  revelations,  both  of  God  and  of  human  nature, 
which  speak  to  men's  condition  through  all  time. 
Some  writers  forget,  when  they  undertake  to  criticise 
the  word  of  God,  that  it  was  given  for  the  very  pur- 
pose of  speaking  to  our  sinful  human  nature ;  and, 
therefore,  it  comes  through  those  who  share  most 
largely  in  that  nature.  A  seraph  from  the  third 
heavens  never  would  have  come  down  to  the  condition  I 
of  our  gross  and  erring  humanity.  His  song  would 
have  floated  over  us,  without  touching  us.  There 
was  a  man  who  lived  two  hundred  years  ago,  born  on 


20  DA  VI D. 


the  banks  of  the  Avon,  —  a  man  whose  experience 
went  down  among  the  grosser  passions  and  vices,  but 
whose  genius  soared  into  the  clearest  and  sweetest 
realm  of  poesy,  —  a  representative  man  like  David. 
And  hence  he  has  dramatized  human  life,  both  in 
its  darker  and  brighter  shadings  ;  has  pictured  infernal 
villainy  and  angelic  grace  so  truly,  that,  out  of  the  old 
Bible,  there  is  no  such  revelation  anywhere  of  the 
mysteries  and  possibilities  of  the  human  heart.  He 
sung  wiser  than  he  knew  or  ever  intended.  He 
never  knew  what  mysteries  of  heart  he  was  revealing. 
And  so  with  David,  one  of  the  grossest  of  sinners, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  a  poetic  genius  of  the  highest 
order.  And  so  the  struggle  of  the  spirit  in  him 
against  the  flesh  represents  the  war  in  all  humanity. 
And  the  compunctions  of  sin,  and  the  peace  of  God 
after  victory,  men  read  over  to  this  day,  and  find 
their  own  experience  mirrored  back  upon  them. 
Even  what  are  called  the  imprecatory  psalms,  the 
curses  upon  David's  enemies,  come  to  mean  what  he 
never  intended ;  for  his  enemies  become,  in  the  Chris- 
tian's experience,  the  spiritual  foes  in  his  own  heart. 
And  the  whole  kingdom  of  David  prefigures  the 
kingdom  of  Christ.  And  this  David,  a  temporal 
king,  with  his  temporal  enemies  about  him,  whom  he 
fights,  and  conquers,  and  triumphs  over,  in  psalms 
and  hallelujahs,  is  taken  to  foreshadow  Christ,  the 
spiritual  king,  and  his  kingdom,  and  his  \ictories  over 


DA  VI D. 


the  enemies  of  the  soul,  —  the  unbeliefs,  the  passions, 
and  the  lusts,  which  hinder  the  full  coming  of  the 
Lord  in  his  reign  on  the  earth.  And  so  these  songs 
come  down  to  us  to  chant  our  moral  victories  with 
to-day. 

Such  are  some  of  the  lessons  of  this  history.  And 
this  leads  me  to  remark,  as  to  how  the  Bible  should 
be  used  as  a  means  of  religious  life. 

We  are  to  discriminate  and  distinguish  always  the 
human  and  the  Divine  element,  both  bound  up  to- 
gether in  the  same  book,  and  in  the  same  characters 
sometimes,  for  the  very  purpose  of  showing  how  one 
acts  upon  the  other,  how  the  clear  justice  of  God 
tells  upon  human  depravity.  There  is  a  wonderful 
unity  in  this  book.  Any  one  who  has  read  it  from 
Genesis  to  Revelation,  and  who  sees  how  one  part 
-unfolds  from  another,  leading  on  the  drama  of  human 
history  under  a  controlling  Providence,  will  never 
believe  that  it  was  produced  by  mere  human  art,  or 
thrown  together  hap-hazard.  He  will  be  convinced 
that  it  unfolds  under  a  Divine  hand,  and  within  the 
breathings  of  a  Divine  inspiration,  though  not  a  verbal 
one,  bringing  together  just  those  Divine  and  human 
elements  which  we  need  most  to  study,  if  we  would 
see  human  nature  as  it  is,  its  deepest  needs,  and  its 
abundant  supplies  out  of  the  treasury  of  God.  No 
novel  that  was  ever  written  has  such  a  unity,  moves 
on    to  such   sublime  catastrophes,   or  shows  human 


2  2  DAVID. 


nature  through  such  ranges  of  height  and  depth. 
Nowhere  are  the  lowest  deeps  opened  up  into 
the  sunlight  as  here.  And  out  of  such  depths,  and 
on  such  a  line  of  descent,  the  Christ  appears,  the 
Son  of  David,  clothing  Himself  in  all  this  inherited 
humanity,  that  He  might  find  it,  redeem  it,  and  lift  it 
heavenward. 

We  must  take  in  the  old  Bible  as  well  as  the  new, 
if  we  would  see  all  that  man  is,  and  the  power  of  the 
Sovereign  Grace  to  create  him  anew.  Use  it  again, 
for  self-knowledge  and  personal  application.  Go  to 
the  Christian  records  for  the  full  consolation  and 
hope  of  the  gospel ;  but  go  back  to  these  old  biog- 
raphies and  prophecies  to  find  a  light  flashing  down, 
sometimes  into  your  lowest  consciousness,  revealing 
the  depths  out  of  which  we  are  all  kept  by  the  crea- 
tive Word  and  the  Sovereign  Grace.  If  you  find  in 
this  old  word  depths  of  depravity  almost  too  shocking 
to  look  into,  remember  they  are  depths  out  of  which 
society  has  emerged  through  the  Christ,  out  of 
which  it  is  kept  by  the  power  of  Christianity,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  which  operates  through  the  truth  which 
it  reveals.  By  the  study  of  this  book,  old  and  new, 
you  shall  be  saved  from  any  closet  theories  of  human 
nature ;  and  you  will  see  your  own  hidden  life  ever- 
more revealed,  as  in  a  glass  ;  and  you  will  pray  all  the 
more  earnestly  that  that  life  be  hid  with  Christ  in 
God. 


TIBNI   AND   OMRI. 


i  Kings  XVI.  22  :  "So  Tibni  died,  and  Omri  reigned." 

THE  kingdom  of  Israel  had  a  succession  of  rulers 
who  vied  with  each  other  in  depravity  and 
wickedness.  Ambition,  lust,  cruelty,  idolatry,  became 
impersonated  in  its  kings ;  and  a  change  of  dynasty 
very  often  turned  out  to  be  nothing  more  than  a 
change  from  one  kind  of  dominant  wickedness  to 
another.  When  a  new  king  came  upon  the  throne, 
the  hopes  and  expectations  of  the  people  were  raised. 
Now,  said  they,  we  shall  have  a  new  policy ;  now  the 
old  vices  will  be  reformed,  and  we  shall  have  a  bril- 
liant reign  of  prosperity  and  virtue.  But  it  often 
turned  out  that  the  old  vices  would  be  reformed,  and 
wane  and  disappear,  only  that  some  new  phase  of 
vice  would  come.  Tibni,  the  son  of  Ginath,  competes 
with  Omri  for  the  throne ;  and  half  the  people  fol- 
lowed Tibni,  and  the  other  half  followed  Omri ;  but 
Omri  prevailed,  and  Tibni  died  and  his  faction  was 
suppressed.  And  Omri  reigned,  and  did  evil  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord,  and  walked  in  all  the  ways  of 
Jeroboam.     And  then  Omri  died,  and  Ahab  his  son 


24  TIBNI  AND   OMRL 

reigned  in  his  stead.  And  he  did  evil,  and  slew  the 
prophets  of  the  Lord,  and  set  up  the  worship  of 
Baal.    And  Ahaziah  succeeded  Ahab,  and  he  did  evil. 

And  why  is  all  this  told  us  ?  and  of  what  use  is  the 
history  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel,  and  its  corrupt  and 
idolatrous  kings  ?  Simply  because  these  are  chapters 
in  the  book  of  human  nature ;  and  in  turning  over  its 
leaves  we  are  very  often  turning  over  the  pages  of  its 
book  of  life.  A  kingdom  is  the  collective  man,  repre- 
senting, in  the  complex,  the  individual  man  ;  and  it 
makes  all  the  difference  whether  the  mind  itself  be 
the  kingdom  of  evil  Ahab,  or  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Indeed,  the  whole  kingdom  of  Judah  prefigured  the 
reign  of  Christ ;  and  Christ  is  called  a  king,  the  Son 
of  David,  and  his  successor,  because  the  earthly  type 
foreshadows  the  heavenly  reality.  The  human  mind 
—  yes,  your  own  mind  individually  —  is  a  kingdom  in 
itself ;  and  some  ruling  passion  or  principle  is  regnant 
there  over  your  whole  realm  of  thought,  feeling, 
motive,  and  action.  Every  mind  has  a  ruling  passion 
of  some  sort.  It  is  Ahab,  or  it  is  Christ,  enthroned 
within. 

Have  you  never  observed  in  men  the  changes  that 
are  sometimes  called  reformation,  but  which  are  noth- 
ing more  than  the  exchange  of  one  bad  principle  for 
another  ?  Have  you  never  observed  how  one  vice  in 
a  man  may  be  conquered  and  slain  and  expelled  alto- 
gether, only  that  another  vice,  more  specious  possibly, 


TIBNI  AND   OMRI.  25 

and  of  better  aspect,  may  succeed  to  the  throne,  and 
reign  there  instead,  while  the  character  has  under- 
gone no  radical  change  whatever?  It  is  Omri  sup- 
planting Tibni,  and  then  Ahab  coming  in  the  place 
of  Omri,  and  Ahaziah  in  his  place,  and  so  on  to  the 
end  of  the  chapter,  —  a  whole  series  of  evil  reigns,  with 
no  Christ  succeeding  them,  with  only  the  difference 
that  some  are  more  specious  than  the  rest. 

1.  There  was  a  man  who  inherited  a  princely 
fortune,  but  who,  in  the  ardor  of  youthful  passion, 
spent  the  whole  of  it  in  riotous  living.  Driven  out 
from  his  inheritance,  and  wandering  as  a  prodigal  on 
the  earth,  he  cast  back  longing  and  sorrowful  glances 
towards  the  home-mansion,  and  the  green  lawns  and 
landscapes  that  lay  around  it.  And  he  made  a  vow  : 
"  I  will  forsake  my  bad  habits.  I  will  reform.  I  will 
make  money  somehow,  and  win  back  my  inheritance." 
And  he  did  reform.  He  became  a  man  of  thrift  and 
temperance  and  self-denial ;  and  he  clutched  for  the 
largest  gains,  and  found  them.  And  the  prodigal 
young  man  became  the  hard-featured  trader,  who 
always  took  the  best  end  of  a  bargain.  And  he  won 
back  his  inheritance,  and  made  its  lawns  and  land- 
scapes more  green  than  ever.  Here  was  self-denial ; 
but  it  was  self  denied  in  one  shape,  only  to  be  de- 
veloped in  another.  The  vice  of  the  prodigal  had 
been  denied  and  killed,  and  cast  out ;  and  avarice  had 
come  in  its  place,  and  had  become   enthroned  over 


26  TIB  NT  AND    OMRI. 

the    whole    realm  of  mind  and   character.     And    so 
Tibni  died,  and   Omri  reigned. 

2.  Again  :  there  are  two  kinds  of  worldliness.  There 
is  secular  worldliness  and  religious  worldliness. 
There  is  the  worldliness  which  makes  the  world 
minister  only  to  selfish  gains  and  selfish  enjoyments; 
which  heaps  up  riches,  only  to  pamper  the  bodily 
appetites  and  passions,  or  the  love  of  luxury  and  the 
love  of  show.  This  is  what  Paul  means  by  being 
conformed  to  the  world.  Then  there  is  the  other 
worldliness,  looking  for  the  future  happiness  and  the 
future  rewards,  from  motives  just  as  personal  and  just 
as  selfish.  The  other  worldliness  does  not  regard 
the  future  life  and  the  heavenly  mansion  as  an  en- 
larged sphere  of  usefulness,  with  enlarged  opportu- 
nities for  doing  good,  with  the  elevation  and  expan- 
sion of  all  the  faculties  for  the  errands  of  philan- 
thropy and  charity,  with  new  facilities  for  alleviating 
the  miseries  of  God's  universe :  it  looks  upon  the 
heavenly  life  as  a  scene  of  lazy  enjoyment,  where 
there  is  no  work  to  be  done,  but  only  indolent  devo- 
tion to  be  enjoyed,  or  barren  praises  to  be  sung,  or 
golden  streets  to  be  admired ;  while  the  universe 
outside  heaven  is  still  groaning  and  travailing  in  pain. 
Such  is  the  other  worldliness ;  and  it  is  not  rare  to 
find  people  converted  from  one  worldliness  to  the 
other,  from  secular  worldliness  to  religious,  when  the 
whole  idea  of  heavenly  happiness  is  a  larger  and  more 
complete  and  more  lazy  self-indulgence. 


TIBNI  AND   OMRI.  27 

What  man  ever  served  the  god  of  this  world,  with- 
out convictions  borne  in  upon  him,  sometimes  with 
overwhelming  power,  that  his  grasp  on  this  world 
is  one  day  to  be  loosed,  that  death  will  unclasp  his 
ringers  one  by  one,  that  all  these  accumulations  must 
be  left  behind,  and  that  another  world,  with  its  im- 
mortal realities  and  its  scenes  of  glory  or  of  suffer- 
ing, will  lie  about  him  ?  But  selfish  scheming,  and  the 
habit  of  getting  the  best  end  of  bargains,  uncaring 
who  holds  the  other  end,  is  not  the  finest  preparation 
for  apprehending  spiritual  things,  or  the  nature  of 
salvation,  or  the  nature  and  attributes  of  God.  Sal- 
vation, after  such  an  education  as  this,  is  very  likely 
to  be,  just  as  much  as  any  other  transaction,  a  matter 
of  scheme  and  bargain  and  selfish  policy.  It  is  the 
old  policy  of  selfishness  taking  a  religious  form.  It 
is  the  balance  of  debit  and  credit  transferred  from 
the  ledger  to  the  spiritual  account.  It  is  so  many 
prayers,  and  so  much  faith  in  dogmas,  made  over  to 
him,  and  so  much  foreign  merit  imputed  to  him  for 
righteousness  ;  so  much  ritual,  and  so  much  making 
believe,  in  order  to  turn  away  the  wrath  of  God  and 
his  punishments.  It  is  an  external  title  to  enter 
heaven,  to  be  bought  and  sold.  He  never  dreams,  X 
that,  before  any  one  enters  heaven,  heaven  must  enter 
him.  And  so  the  old  selfishness,  with  all  its  calcu- 
lating policy,  is  transferred  to  religion,  and  rules  him 
still,  the  foundations  of  character  remaining  just  the 


23  TIBNI  AND    OMRT. 

same,  none  of  its  hard  and  flinty  lines  softened  down 
or  obliterated.  His  religion  has  made  him  no  better, 
only  changed  self  from  one  form  to  another.  The 
god  of  this  world  has  been  given  up  ;  but  the  god 
of  the  other  world,  who  comes  in  his  place,  is  not  the 
Lord  himself,  but  a  superstition,  whose  ruling  motive 
is  lurid  fear  and  selfish  hope,  and  whose  servitude  is 
quite  as  slavish  as  the  servitude  of  this  world.  And 
so  Tibni  dies,  and  Omri  reigns. 

3.  Again :  there  is  knowledge  which  is  acquired 
for  the  sake  of  higher  usefulness,  and  there  is  knowl- 
edge which  is  acquired  from  love  of  applause  or  admi- 
ration ;  or,  again,  for  selfish  pleasure,  not  for  useful- 
ness in  the  world,  and  a  better  qualification  to  do 
our  work  in  it.  Education  —  that  education  whose 
prime  object  is  to  unfold  all  our  human  capabilities, 
and  develop  a  perfect  manhood  or  womanhood  — 
looks  less  to  the  decorations  of  life  than  to  its  body 
and  substance.  The  female  education  that  fills  up 
the  outlines  of  the  woman  nobly  planned  will  have 
prime  reference  to  work  more  than  to  ornament,  and 
to  faculty  more  than  to  accomplishments.  How  much 
work  there  is  in  this  world-,  ere  nature  becomes  sub- 
dued to  the  use  of  man  and  the  progress  of  human- 
ity !  and  how  much  remains  undone !  We  have 
lectures  and  conventions,  speeches,  and  books  writ- 
ten, to  demonstrate  woman's  right  to  labor;  but 
the  truth  is,  half  the  women  are  overworked  already, 


TIBNI  AND   OMRI.  29 


while  the  other  half  are  only  for  exhibition.  They 
are  highly  educated,  not  for  work,  but  for  show ; 
not  for  the  art  of  doing,  and  doing  with  such 
skilled  execution  that  all  drudgery  shall  be  taken 
out  of  labor,  and  woman's  sphere  be  filled  with 
those  beneficent  industries  that  train  all  the  facul- 
ties into  symmetrical  grace  and  proportion.  And 
so  we  read  lately  of  a  highly  accomplished  woman 
who  had  been  educated  here  in  the  East,  who 
starved  to  death  because  she  could  find  nothing 
to  do.  Music  and  French  and  drawing  were  good 
in  their  way  and  in  their  sphere;  but,  when  the 
strain  and  stress  came,  no  faculty  had  been  touched 
and  trained  to  meet  the  conflicts  of  life.  And  so  in  a 
place  where  there  was  work  all  around,  and  woman's 
work  too,  that  waited  to  be  done,  the  highly  educated 
girl  could  not  do  it ;  and  lay  down  and  starved  and 
died.  Indolence,  and  the  love  of  languishing  ease, 
had  been  overcome  ;  but  vanity  had  come  in  their 
place,  and  shaped  the  whole  plan  of  study,  and  deter- 
mined the  whole  style  of  character.  Self  in  one 
shape  had  given  way ;  and  self  in  another  and  more 
specious  form  had  succeeded.  The  kingdom  within 
had  changed  one  dynasty  for  another,  while  the 
foundations  of  character  remained  just  the  same, 
and  just  as  frail  and  flimsy.  And  so,  again,  Tibni 
died,  and  Omri  reigned. 

4.  And  the  same  is  true  in  a  great  many  of  those 


30  TIBNI  AND   OMRI. 

changes  of  opinion,  or  conversions  from  one  faith  to 
another,  which,  when  you  sift  them,  are  nothing 
more  than  the  change  of  one  form  of  self-opinion  for 
another.  Faith  really  progressive  is  always  humble. 
Its  enlarging  view  is  like  the  ascent  of  an  acclivity, 
giving  at  every  step  a  wider  horizon,  and  a  purer 
air,  above  the  clouds  and  the  storms.  But,  in  order 
to  gain  such  a  faith,  one  must  always  hold  the  atti- 
tude of  a  learner  and  a  disciple.  In  the  place  of 
these,  may  come  the  pride  of  science,  the  conceit  of 
opinion,  or  the  dogmatism  of  sect.  And  a  man  may 
renounce  the  dogmas  of  superstition,  and  become  a 
convert  to  the  dogmas  of  infidelity,  and  be  a  greater 
bigot  than  ever,  without  any  of  that  radical  change 
of  character  which  places  his  mind  in  sweet  and 
humble  attitude  toward  all  the  Divine  revelations, 
whether  from  the  spirit  world  or  the  natural.  No 
matter  what  a  man  is  converted  from,  or  converted 
to,  so  long  as  he  does  not  hold  his  opinions  with  the 
spirit  of  a  child :  it  is  one  dynasty  going  out,  and 
another  coming,  just  as  hard  and  despotic  as  the 
former.  How  many  of  these  sudden  conversions 
which  we  hear  of,  from  one  sect  to  another,  are  not 
progressions  of  faith,  but  revolutions  of  self-opinion  ! 
So  we  find  represented  in  these  old  scriptures 
those  changes  and  revolutions  in  our  inner  world  of 
thought  and  passion,  which  never  make  a  man  better, 
but  only  change  the  form  of  his  own  selfhood.     There 


TIBNI  AND   OMRI.  31 

is  no  such  revelation  anywhere  else,  of  the  mysteries 
of  human  nature ;  and  it  even  flashes  forth  through 
the  proper  names  of  the  Old  Testament,  which  be- 
come the  labels  of  the  passions  that  stir  in  human 
hearts  everywhere.  Every  mind  has  some  ruling 
love  that  gives  unity  and  direction  to  all  its  powers. 
The  ruling  love  changes  sometimes  through  the 
whole  of  a  man's  life,  taking  one  form  in  youth, 
another  in  manhood,  and  another  still  in  age  ;  one 
form  in  men,  and  another  form  in  women.  In  youth, 
it  may  be  love  of  pleasure  ;  in  manhood,  love  of 
glory;  and,  in  age,  love  of  ease :  in  women,  it  may  be 
love  of  show ;  in  men,  love  of  money,  —  and  all  only 
self  in  variant  shapes,  with  only  the  difference  that 
one  is  a  more  handsome  and  successful  imitation  of 
goodness  than  another,  but  without  any  soul  of  good- 
ness in  it.  Conversion  to  Christ  puts  the  soul  of 
goodness  into  all.  Then  business  has  a  new  aim,  — 
Christian  living  and  beneficence.  Education  has  a 
new  aim,  —  to  fit  men  and  women  to  do  something  for 
social  progress,  and  for  lifting  the  burdens  of  human- 
ity. Female  education  has  a  new  aim,  —  the  truest 
and  most  substantial  womanhood,  for  work  and  not  for 
show ;  and  young  women  need  not  wait  for  a  political 
revolution  before  they  begin  an  education,  physical, 
moral,  and  intellectual,  to  fit  them  for  the  noble  mis- 
sion they  are  called  to.  I  do  not  believe  that  there  is 
any  public  opinion  which  bars  woman  from  learning 


32  TIBNI  AND   OMRI. 

any  thing  or  doing  any  thing  in  this  world  which  she 
will  do  well ;  and,  suppose  there  is,  what  has  she  to 
do  but  to  disregard  it,  and  revolutionize  it,  as  the  first 
success  will  be  sure  to  do?  Fealty  to  the  Divine 
Master  will  give  her  the  will  and  the  power.  And, 
the  whole  line  of  evil  reigns  once  given  up  for  the 
reign  of  Christ,  there  is  no  change  of  faith  after  that, 
but  from  glory  to  glory.  Tibni  dies,  and  all  his  line 
becomes  extinct,  that  Christ  may  become  all  in  all. 
No  need  of  going  from  one  sect  to  another,  for  that  is 
only  a  change  from  one  hitman  master  to  another. 
The  Christ  involves  and  comprehends  them  all,  and  a 
great  deal  more  besides  ;  and  change,  with  Him,  is 
nearing  the  sun-bright  summits  which  overlook  all 
the  fields  of  thought,  and  from  which  all  the  artificial 
lines  of  division  fade  away  and  disappear.  When  the 
reign  of  Christ  comes  in,  and  the  reign  of  Ahab  and 
all  his  line  goes  out,  the  end  for  which  you  live  will 
be  to  do  the  work  of  Christ  here  on  the  earth,  to 
leave  the  earth  better  than  you  found  it.  Education, 
all  education,  is  for  godly  and  beneficent  living. 
Preparation  for  death  is  a  preparation  for  larger  and 
more  angelic  activities,  with  those  who  are  more  swift 
to  do  God's  will;  because  the  fetters  of  earth  have 
broken  away,  and  the  reign  of  Christ  supplants  every 
form  of  self,  and  becomes  all  in  all. 


PILATE. 


John  XVIII.  37  :  ii  Pilate  therefore  said  unto  him,  Art  thou  a  king,  then  ? 
Jesus  answered,  Thou  sayest  that  I  am  a  king.  To  this  end  was  I  born,  and 
for  this  cause  came  I  into  the  world." 

TO  understand  the  whole  scene  of  Jesus  before 
Pilate,  we  must  remember  the  state  of  mind  in 
the  Roman  governor.  He  is  at  a  loss  what  to  do, 
and  he  hardly  knows  what  he  is  saying.  He  echoes 
mechanically  the  word  "  truth,"  which  had  just  fallen 
from  the  lips  of  Jesus.  He  is  afraid  of  his  prisoner ; 
for  the  real  character  of  Jesus  beams  out  on  his  trial 
with  commanding  majesty.  Jesus  had  said,  "My 
kingdom  is  not  of  this  world."  —  "  Art  thou  a  king, 
then  ? "  says  Pilate,  disposed  at  first  to  a  little  banter 
and  cavil.  Then  comes  the  reply,  which  has  since 
been  cited  as  the  highest  reach  of  the  moral  sublime, 
"  Yes,  I  am  a  king  "  (so  we  should  render).  "  To  this 
end  was  I  born,  and  for  this  cause  came  I  into  the 
world,  that  I  should  bear  witness  unto  the  truth. 
Every  one  who  is  of  the  truth  heareth  my  voice."  — 
"  Truth,"  echoes  Pilate  timidly.  "  What  is  truth  ?  I 
don't    understand."      And,   shrinking  both   from    an 


34  PI  LA  TE. 


acquittal  and  from  condemnation  of  Jesus,  he  went 
out  to  talk  with  the  Jews  privately,  and  persuade 
them  of  the  innocence  of  Jesus. 

I  do  not  know  of  any  character  drawn  so  true  to 
the  life,  with  so  few  touches,  as  the  character  of  Pilate 
in  the  narrative  ;  and  it  proves  irresistibly,  with  simi- 
lar touches  elsewhere,  the  authenticity  of  the  fourth 
Gospel.  Nobody  could  have  imagined  this.  Observe 
the  man  and  his  difficulties.  He  is  the  Roman  gov- 
ernor of  Judaea,  under  Tiberius  Caesar.  There  are 
three  parties  whom  he  is  anxious  not  to  offend.  The 
tyrant  will  recall  him  if  there  is  trouble  in  his  prov- 
ince which  he  cannot  manage,  when  he  must  go  back 
to  Rome  in  disgrace.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Jews 
hate  the  Roman  power,  and,  if  not  gratified,  will 
chafe  under  it,  and  rebel.  Both  these  two  parties 
must  be  pleased.  Then  there  is  a  third.  He  has 
some  dregs  of  conscience  in  him  yet ;  and  he  would 
like  to  do  right,  if  he  can  without  producing  trouble 
aud  agitation.  His  wife  has  had  a  dream,  warning 
him  against  participating  in  the  death  of  Christ;  and 
his  superstitions  are  alarmed.  So  he  trembles  and 
vacillates  between  fear  of  the  emperor,  fear  of  the 
Jews,  and  fear  of  his  own  conscience  within.  He 
knows  his  prisoner  is  innocent,  and  that  simple  jus- 
tice demands  of  him  to  pronounce  acquittal  from  the 
judgment- seat.  But  this  man  claims  to  be  a  king. 
"  Ah  !  they  will  be  sending  reports  of  me  to  Rome, 


PILA  TE.  35 


that  I  have  winked  at  treason ;  and  there  will  be 
trouble  there."  He  attempts  various  expedients. 
First,  he  tries  to  cajole  these  Jews,  and  persuade 
them  to  release  Jesus.  They  refuse,  and  demand  his 
life.  Then  Pilate  tries  to  put  the  responsibility  upon 
them.  "  Take  him,  and  crucify  him  yourselves." 
They  remind  him  that  the  Jewish  tribunals  have  not 
the  power  of  capital  punishment.  Jesus  must  be  put 
to  death,  if  at  all,  under  Roman  law,  of  which  you, 
Pilate,  are  the  magistrate.  Then  Pilate  makes  an- 
other shift.  Herod  of  Galilee  is  at  Jerusalem ;  and 
Pilate  sends  his  prisoner  to  Herod,  pretending  that 
the  case  belongs  to  Herod's  jurisdiction.  Herod 
sends  Him  back.  Then  Pilate  orders  Christ  to  be 
scourged,  thinking  that  by  this  the  Jews  will  be  satis- 
fied, and  sends  Him  out  before  them  bleeding  from 
the  thongs,  and  says,  "  Only  look  upon  the  man."  So 
far  from  being  pacified,  their  rage  kindles  anew  at  the 
sight  of  blood ;  and  "  Crucify  him  ! "  goes  up  from  the 
whole  multitude.  At  last  Pilate  delivers  up  his  pris- 
oner to  be  crucified  by  his  own  soldiers,  but  orders 
water  to  be  brought,  and  washes  his  hands  before  the 
people,  saying,  "  I  am  innocent.  See  ye  to  it.  His 
blood  be  upon  you." 

This  is  Pilate,  eminently  a  representative  man. 
We  know  something  of  him  from  profane  history;  but 
in  this  record  he  stands  out  with  more  amazing  in- 
dividuality.    He  personifies  one  of  the  types  of  human 


36  PILA  TE. 


character,  with  indescribable  naturalness,  and  is  an- 
other name  for  vacillation  and  indecision.  Let  us 
take  him  now  to  represent  this  style  of  action  ;  and, 
having  seen  where  its  weakness  lies,  let  us  pass  on, 
and  see  how  it  may  be  cured,  and  how  indecision  may 
be  turned  into  Christian  strength  and  energy. 

Four  things  will  indicate  the  marks  and  symptoms 
of  this  infirmity  of  human  nature,  and  show  us  when 
we  are  sliding  into  it. 

I.  The  first  is  a  disposition  to  put  off  our  responsi- 
bilities upon  others,  and  deny  the  jurisdiction  of  our 
own  essential  duties.  And,  when  we  wish  to  avoid  a 
disagreeable  duty,  and  try  to  put  it  upon  Herod,  we 
generally  do  it  under  pleas  and  pretences  which  are 
very  specious,  and  which  serve  to  flatter  our  self-love. 
Oh,  our  qualifications  are  not  equal  to  it !  Our  expe- 
rience is  small,  and  some  one  else  will  do  a  great  deal 
better  than  we  can.  Under  this  charming  guise  of 
amiability  and  modesty,  we  are  complimenting,  at  the 
same  time,  our  own  humility,  and  the  rare  talent  and 
ability  of  our  friend  over  the  way.  Some  persons 
pass  through  life  shunning  responsibilities  which 
fairly  belong  to  them,  solely  through  that  fear  of  man 
which  bringeth  a  snare.  And  so  there  are  vast 
powers  which  are  never  used,  and  vast  energies 
which  are  never  developed.  Even  in  making  up  the 
judgments  that  belong  to  us,  how  liable  are  we  to 
betake  ourselves  to  the  sheltering  judgment  of  some 


PILATE.  37 


one  else,  in  any  case  which  involves  censure  and 
agitation.  An  emphatic  yes  or  no  from  our  own 
judgment-seat  might  settle  at  once  and  forever  a 
question  which  otherwise  is  kept  open  for  controversy 
and  dissension,  as  the  question  is  tossed  to  and  fro 
between  Herod  and  Pilate.  Between  a  positive  faith 
in  Christianity,  and  a  clean  rejection  thereof,  we 
must  find  a  middle  ground,  —  between  two  wings  a 
place  that  will  offend  neither ;  and  we  must  shun 
all  controversy,  and  keep  the  peace,  not  remember- 
ing that  it  is  the  positive  and  negative  of  the  electric 
currents,  which,  coming  together,  forge  the  thunder- 
bolts that  shake  the  air. 

2.  The  second  expedient  of  this  infirmity  of  human 
nature  is  compromise,  or  trying  to  get  into  some  half- 
way house  between  right  and  wrong,  between  truth 
and  falsehood.  Some  half-measure  will  probably  sat- 
isfy both  Tiberius  and  the  people ;  and  then  our  own 
consciences  are  soothed  and  drilled  with  the  reflec- 
tion  that  we  have  prevented  a  more  terrible  evil  by 
choosing  a  less  one.  An  overwhelming  yes  or  no 
would  have  pushed  things  to  extremes,  whereas  a 
negative  positive  will  keep  them  on  middle  ground 
between  the  two.  This  has  been  tersely  called,  split- 
ting the  difference  between  God  and  the  Devil ;  and 
when  we  do  this,  we  do  not  consider  that  the  latter 
power  is  mightily  strengthened  by  the  process,  and 
emboldened  mightily  to  ask  more.     Thus  every  com- 


38  PILATE. 


promise  necessitates  two  more ;  and  they  increase  in 
geometrical  ratio,  until  the  adversary  has  us  com- 
pletely under  his  feet.  Half-measures  with  iniquity 
make  it  stronger.  The  scourging  excites  no  compas- 
sion, but  whets  the  appetite  for  blood  till  the  cry 
of  *'  Crucify  !"  rises  with  more  unappeasable  thirst  for 
vengeance. 

3.  The  third  expedient  of  this  infirmity  of  our 
nature  is,  to  shift  the  blame  upon  others  after  the 
wrong  is  done.  Acting  from  this  state  of  mind,  we 
never  take  any  share  of  the  guilt  ourselves,  for  we 
think  it  all  belongs  to  those  bad  people  who  made  the 
excitement.  The  Pilates  of  all  ages  ward  off  their 
self-accusations  by  blaming  their  circumstances,  never 
dreaming  that  it  is  the  special  duty  and  preroga- 
tive of  human  virtue  to  conquer  circumstances,  and 
change  them.  And  to  help  on  this  expedient,  and 
persuade  ourselves  of  innocence,  we  are  very  apt  to 
resort  to  religious  rites  and  ceremonies.  The  Jewish 
law  required,  that  when  a  murder  had  been  com- 
mitted, and  the  murderer  was  undiscovered,  the 
elders  of  the  city  should  wash  their  hands  over  an 
animal  offered  in  sacrifice ;  saying,  "  Our  hands  have 
not  shed  this  blood,  neither  have  our  eyes  seen  it. 
Lay  not  this  innocent  blood  to  thy  people's  charge." 
And  then  the  guilt  of  the  murder  should  not  rest 
upon  the  city.  Similar  rites  of  purgation  belonged 
to   the    Greek  and   Roman  religions.     It  is  the  last 


FILA  TE.  39 


expedient  employed  to  dim  the  consciousness  of 
responsibility,  to  wash  out  the  stains  upon  the  con- 
science, not  by  repairing  the  wrong,  but  by  the  ^hows 
and  mummeries  of  a  pious  ceremony.  Guilt  becomes 
the  most  hopeless  and  deep-seated,  when  it  conceals 
itself  under  the  hypocrisies  of  religious  rites  ;  and 
the  conscience  is  then  most  effectually  drugged  and 
silenced. 

4.  The  last  thing  which  characterizes  this  infirmity 
of  character  is,  that  it  falls  with  tenfold  disaster  into 
the  very  ruin  it  seeks  to  shun.  Let  us  travel  a  little 
beyond  the  record,  and  see  what  became  of  this 
Roman  magistrate,  who  sought  a  half-way  house  be- 
tween right  and  wrong.  He  lost  the  confidence  of 
all  parties,  and  was  called  back  to  Rome  in  disgrace. 
Herod,  who  was  made  his  friend  that  day,  became  his 
bitterest  enemy.  The  dream  of  his  wife,  foreboding 
evil,  was  more  than  realized.  The  faint  remnants 
of  conscience,  which  appeared  at  the  trial  of  Jesus, 
were  soon  extinguished  ;  and  Pilate  became  intoler- 
ably cruel.  The  Jews  hated  him,  and  accused  him  to 
the  emperor;  Herod  hated  him;  the  emperor  hated 
him,  and  banished  him  to  Gaul  ;  he  hated  himself 
and  his  own  life,  and  died  miserably  by  his  own  hand. 
Such  is  the  finish  of  the  picture  of  this  sleek  Roman 
magistrate,  who  sought  a  half-way  house  between 
right  and  wrong,  but  perished  without  finding  it. 

Eighteen    hundred   years    have    passed  away,  and 


40  PI  LA  TE. 


Jesus  is  again  before  Pilate ;  and  the  same  ques- 
tion comes  up  anew,  Art  thou  a  king,  then  ?  "  Yes," 
says  Jesus,  "  I  am  a  king.  I  was  born  to  be  a  king, 
and  to  this  end  came  I  into  the  world.  Ye  call 
me  Master  and  Lord  ■  and  ye  say  well,  for  so  I  am." 
And  yet  we  are  now  told  there  are  two  parties, 
both  of  which  must  be  satisfied,  and  compromised 
with.  One  bows  in  acknowledgment  of  the  immac- 
ulate purity  and  the  authority  of  Jesus  :  the  other 
party  denies  these ;  says  He  made  mistakes,  and  was 
sinful,  and  was  vindictive,  and  that  the  story  of  His 
life  and  miracles  is  myth  and  fable.  Stripped  of  all 
soft  and  deceptive  language,  that  is  the  issue  between 
what  are  called  the  extremes  of  the  Unitarian  denom- 
ination ;  and  we  are  told  that  we  must  find  some 
middle  way  between  these  extremes,  some  split  be- 
tween a  yes  and  a  no  on  this  plain  question.  "  We 
must  lean  as  flexibly  as  we  can  both  ways,"  —  this 
is  the  language  of  the  council  of  the  National  Con- 
ference, —  "  as  flexibly  as  we  can  both  ways,  without 
losing  our  balance."  I  think  that  a  denomination 
which  undertakes  the  work  of  Pilate,  "  leaning  flexi- 
bly both  ways,"  will  find  the  doom  of  Pilate,  which  is 
suicide.  For,  lift  up  your  eyes,  and  see  !  He  cometh 
in  his  kingdom ;  and  his  own  words,  "  I  am  a  king, 
and  to  this  end  was  I  born,  and  for  this  came  I  into 
the  world,"  have  still  their  daily  fulfilment ;  for  still 
He  rules  both  the  foremost  thought  and  practice    of 


PILATE.  41 


the  ages.  And  his  church,  more  than  ever  conscious 
of  his  presence  and  inworking  Divine  energy,  origi- 
nates, leads  on,  and  inspires  all  the  advanced  civiliza- 
tions of  the  world,  and  the  sweetest  self-sacrifice  in 
the  cause  of  humanity.  Is  this  an  hour  to  stand  and 
play  the  game  of  Pilate,  when  the  words  "/  am  a 
king"  are  having  their  fulfilment  over  the  world  and 
adown  the  centuries ;  when  He  comes  to  rule  right 
royally  over  all  this  clear,  earnest,  and  comprehensive 
faith,  which,  amid  darkness  and  vacillation  and  doubt 
and  uncertainty,  opens  the  portals  of  immortality, 
shows  both  worlds  in  their  organic  relations  with 
each  other,  and  lights  up  the  river  of  death  with 
the  splendors  of  an  everlasting  morning  ? 

There  is  still  another  and  more  special  and  individ- 
ual application.  The  subject,  I  think,  rebukes  all  our 
half-professions  in  Christianity;  all  that  halting  disci- 
pleship  which  would  make  the  gospel  a  compromise 
between  Christ  and  the  world,  between  religion  and 
philosophy.  He  is  indeed  king  to  us,  or  He  is  nothing. 
He  has  no  claim  over  us  any  more  than  Socrates  or 
Seneca,  nor  so  much  as  the  philosophers  of  to-day, 
who  have  all  the  light  of  the  new  science  and  dis- 
covery; or  else  He  has  all  claim  over  us,  over  faith  and 
affection  and  life  and  practice,  as  that  power  of  the 
Godhead  which  takes  up  our  weak  and  lowly  natures, 
creates  them  anew  in  his  own  image  and  likeness, 
and  enriches  them  with  the  inbreathings  and  indwell- 


42  PI  LA  TE. 


ings  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  For  it  is  either  unwarranted 
assumption,  or  else  it  is  tender  invitation  out  of  the 
depths  of  heaven,  —  the  voice  which  comes  to  us  even 
to-day,  "  All  that  the  Father  hath  is  mine  ;  "  "  Come 
unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  None  that  have 
come  ever  found  those  words  deceptive  or  untrue ;  for 
it  is  rest  from  distraction  and  doubt,  rest  from  weak- 
ness and  vacillation,  rest  from  the  troublous  uprisings 
of  conscience,  rest  from  debates  whether  there  be  any 
future  life,  or  any  God  even,  and  repose  on  the  bosom 
of  his  forgiving  and  cleansing  love,  within  the  peace 
and  the  sunshine  of  an  eternal  world. 


THE    GOURD. 


Jonah  IV.  9  :  "  Doest  thou  well  to  be  angry  for  the  gourd  ?  " 

iERHAPS  no  book  has  been  the  subject  of  so 
much  banter  and  ridicule,  among  persons  some 
of  whom  probably  never  studied  or  even  read  it,  as 
the  Book  of  Jonah.  It  is  one  of  the  minor  prophets, 
not  written  by  Jonah  himself,  but  by  some  one  who 
makes  the  name  and  history  of  the  prophet  the  frame- 
work on  which  to  hang  some  great  clustering  truths. 
It  was  written  —  so  say  the  best  critics  —  about  four 
hundred  years  before  Christ,  and  makes  the  tradi- 
tional facts  in  the  life  of  a  prophet,  who  had  lived,  say 
a  hundred  years  before,  the  basis  of  some  important 
ethical  doctrines  addressed  to  the  time  and  age. 
The  form  of  it  was  just  the  one  to  be  addressed  to  a 
Hebrew  people  of  that  age.  The  essence  and  spirit 
of  it  are  beyond  that  age,  and  beyond  this  age  as  well. 
If  you  should  ask  me  whether  I  believe  the  fact  that 
stands  out  boldly  in  the  body  of  the  narrative  —  the 
swallowing  of  Jonah  by  a  sea-monster,  and  the  casting 
him  up  again  —  is  to  be  believed,  I  should  say  for 
myself,  I  should  never  think  of  believing  it,  any  more 


44  THE   GOURD. 


than  I  should  think  of  believing  as  fact  the  frame  and 
dress  of  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  It  is  of  no  conse- 
quence whether  it  were  fact  or  not.  I  do  not  believe 
that  Hamlet  ever  saw  his  father's  ghost  in  just  the 
way  he  describes  the  scene,  nor  that  Macbeth  ever 
saw  Banquo's  ghost  with  the  long  line  of  future  kings, 
nor  that  Shakspeare  believed  he  did.  None  the  less 
do  we  receive  the  wonderful  revelations  of  human 
nature  found  in  those  two  tragedies.  I  do  not  sup- 
pose the  narrative  of  the  Prodigal  Son  is  given  to  us 
in  Luke  as  biography,  or  that  Jesus  cared  whether 
we  received  it  as  such,  or  not.  Of  this  Book  of  Jonah, 
however,  two  things  are  very  obvious.  There  must 
have  been  an  historical  basis  for  it;  and  such  a  man 
must  have  lived  and  acted.  The  book  is  as  full  of 
human  nature  as  it  could  well  hold,  and  has  such  a 
human  savor  about  it  as  gives  it  an  air  of  intense 
reality.  Then,  again,  the  highest  religious  truths  are 
so  imbedded  in  the  narrative,  it  is  so  packed  with 
them  we  might  say,  that  its  allegorical  character  can- 
not be  mistaken.  The  omnipresent  voice  of  Divine 
rebuke  that  always  follows  us  when  we  shirk  our 
duty,  or  run  away  from  the  mission  we  are  called  to ; 
the  trouble  that  follows  and  involves  us ;  the  all- 
abounding  Divine  Mercy,  free  forgiveness  on  repent- 
ance and  turning  to  the  Lord ;  salvation  even  for  the 
heathen  on  these  conditions,  a  doctrine  shocking  to 
Jewish    prejudice ;    the    all-controlling    and    guiding 


THE   GOURD.  45 


Providence  that  uses  the  individual  for  its  great 
ends,  the  Providence  of  God  in  little  things  as  well 
as  great,  in  the  withering  of  a  plant  not  less  than  in 
the  destruction  of  a  city,  anticipating  our  Saviour's 
doctrine  of  the  sparrow's  fall,  —  these  are  all  conspic- 
uous on  the  face  of  the  narrative.  They  shine  out 
clearly  above  the  discoveries  of  that  age,  and  above 
the  theology  even  of  this  age. 

But  the  personal  history  of  the  prophet  himself  is 
marvellously  instructive.  Jonah  is  emphatically  and 
largely  a  representative  man.  There  are  two  classes 
of  troubles  to  which  we  are  all  subjected,  and  which 
sometimes  have  the  very  opposite  influences  on  our 
tempers  and  lives.  How  often  do  you  find  that  the  V 
small  troubles  are  the  hardest  ones  to  bear !  Yea, 
that  our  little  griefs  are  the  ones  which  bring  the 
greatest  amount  of  vexation  and  suffering.  The  great 
sorrows  bring  their  own  compensations  and  remedies  : 
they  melt  us  down  into  a  sweet  humility  and  tender- 
ness, and  bring  us  very  near  to  the  Lord.  The 
smaller  griefs  have  sometimes  exactly  the  opposite 
results.  They  chafe  and  irritate,  and  drive  us  far 
away  from  the  Divine  refuge  and  love.  What  a  burst 
of  devotion  came  from  the  prophet  when  his  great 
trouble  overwhelmed  him! 

"  I  cried  by  reason  of  my  distress  to  the  Lord, 

And  he  heard  me. 

Out  ol  the  depth  of  the  underworld  I  cried, 


46  THE   GOURD. 


And  thou  didst  hear  my  voice. 

Thou  didst  cast  me  into  the  deep,  into  the  heart  of  the  sea; 

And  the  flood  compassed  me  about. 

All  thy  billows  and  thy  waves  passed  over  me  ; 

And  I  said,  I  am  cast  out  before  thine  eyes, 

Yet  I  will  look  again  to  thy  holy  temple. 

The  waters  compassed  me  about,  even  to  the  life  ; 

The  deep  enclosed  me  round  about ; 

Sea-weeds  were  bound  around  my  head  ; 

I  sank  down  to  the  foundations  of  the  mountains ; 

The  bars  of  the  earth  were  about  me  forever. 

Thou  hast  brought  up  my  life  from  the  pit,  O  Lord  my  God  ! 

When  my  soul  fainted  within  me,  I  remembered  the  Lord ; 

And  my  prayer  came  to  thee,  to  thy  holy  temple." 

The  whole  description    shows    that    the  waves    of   a 
mighty  trouble  had  broken  over  him,  and  that  they 
woke  the  most  fervid  aspirations,  and  the  most  sub- 
lime and  undoubting*  faith  in  God. 

But  now  the  scene  changes  :  deliverance  came;  and 
our  hero  is  sitting  down  on  the  eastern  side  of  Nine- 
veh, but  in  a  frame  of  mind  how  vastly  different !  He 
is  sick  of  life,  and  weary  of  the  world.  He  wishes 
himself  dead,  and  exclaims,  "  It  is  better  for  me  to 
die  than  to  live  !  "  What  is  the  matter  now?  Has 
the  wave  of  some  heavier  calamity  broken  over  him  ? 
Has  he  been  plunged  into  depths  of  woe  more  terri- 
ble than  the  maw  of  the  sea-monster  that  swallowed 
him  up  ?  Is  it  a  more  bitter  calamity  that  now 
changes  his  strain  of  devotion  to  a  wail  of  despair  ? 


THE   GOURD.  47 


Oh,  no !  not  that,  but  his  gourd  has  wilted.  It 
sprang  up  in  anight;  and  he  got  under  its  shelter, 
and  Jonah  was  exceedingly  glad  of  the  gourd.  But  a 
worm  gnawed  at  the  root  of  it,  as  worms  are  very  apt 
to  do,  and  so  the  gourd  withered  away ;  and  now 
Jonah  is  without  consolation.  One  would  think  it  no 
great  matter  for  him  to  change  his  position ;  but  there 
he  sits  doggedly  in  the  hot  sun,  and  curses  his  fate. 
And  the  Lord  said  to  him,  '•  Doest  thou  well,  to  be 
angry  for  the  gourd  ?"  And  he  replied,  "  I  do  well 
to  be  angry,  even  unto  death."  And  the  curtain 
falls ;  and  Jonah  passes  from  our  view  forever,  in  this 
most  uncomfortable  and  distressing  frame  of  mind. 

Even  so.  While  we  apply  our  religious  theories  to 
the  greater  sorrows,  we  are  very  apt  to  leave  out  the 
smaller  ones,  and  lose  all  the  good  concealed  in  them. 
To  endure  small  griefs  well,  and  turn  them  to  good 
account,  is  evidence,  undoubtedly,  of  a  more  advanced 
spiritual  culture,  than  is  shown  in  enduring  great 
griefs.  It  is  quite  as  important  to  take  these  small 
griefs  up  into  the  economy  of  life,  and  discern  their 
meaning,  for  the  reason  that  the  small  ones  beset  us 
every  day,  whereas  the  great  ones  come  but  once  or 
twice  in  a  lifetime,  and  perhaps,  when  they  do  come, 
break  open  for  us  a  way  of  entrance  into  the  Divine 
love. 

These  small  trials  are  of  two  kinds.  There  are 
some  which  come  from  within.     They  are  produced 


48  THE   GOURD. 


by  no  external  event  whatsoever :  not  even  the  loss 
of  the  gourd  can  be  put  in  as  the  cause  of  them  ;  but 
a  man's  surroundings,  of  whatever  kind,  only  excite 
and  manifest  them,  and  take  on  their  shades  and 
colorings.  They  are  projections  which  some  people 
make  from  their  own  souls,  and  which  thence  form 
the  world  they  live  in.  Just  as  the  soul  which  rays 
out  warmth  and  sunshine  will  make  all  outward  things 
take  on  its  own  irradiations  ;  so  the  soul  whose  chronic 
state  is  dark  and  troublous,  will  surely  ray  out  the 
darkness  upon  all  things.  Such  an  one  will  overlay 
with  darkness  the  most  blessed  sunshine  that  ever 
fell  on  terrestrial  objects,  and  make  them  reflect  the 
hues  of  his  own  heart ;  whereas  he  whose  soul  flings 
out  of  itself  the  sunshine  of  a  benevolent  disposition 
will  make  it  gild  the  darkest  places  with  a  heavenly 
light.  So,  then,  in  a  most  important  sense,  we  create 
the  world  we  live  in  every  day.  Its  events  and  envi- 
ronments are  simply  the  material  which  God  fur- 
nishes ;  and  out  of  ourselves  comes  the  energy  that 
makes  them  into  hideous  shapes  and  robes  them  in 
sombre  hues,  or  else  clothes  them  in  the  colors  of 
a  kindly  heart  and  a  heavenly  mind.  And  hence 
the  little  troubles  or  the  little  mercies  of  the  hour. 
Even  if  his  gourd  had  not  wilted,  this  peevish  prophet 
would  have  rayed  the  trouble  out  of  him,  sitting  there 
in  sight  of  Nineveh,  with  its  six  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants,  angry  with   the   Lord  because  he  would 


THE   GOURD.  49 


not  destroy  the  city,  that  he,  Jonah,  might  have  the 
honor  of  uttering  a  prediction.  Just  like  the  men 
who  are  always  foreboding  ruin  and  disaster,  and  who 
think,  for  that  reason,  that  ruin  and  disaster  are 
bound  to  come,  and  who  are  exceedingly  disappointed 
unless  these  do  come.  Here,  after  all,  was  the  seat 
of  the  trouble,  and  not  the  loss  of  the  gourd. 

However,  these  little  griefs  are  not  all  of  them 
pure  creations  from  within.  The  minor  troubles  do 
beset  us,  sometimes  coming  into  the  house  as  unwel- 
come guests  and  there  taking  up  their  abode,  some- 
times springing  upon  us  from  coverts,  unawares. 
They  may  be  the  very  hardest  to  bear  because  we 
have  no  philosophy  to  apply  to  them.  For  great 
sorrows,  we  have  the  consolations  of  religion  and 
the  sympathy  of  friends.  These  others  are  too  small 
for  consolation  and  condolence.  They  do  not  crush 
into  us  like  the  great  ones,  but  come  drop,  drop,  with 
chafings  and  corrodings ;  and  so  we  think  we  do  well 
to  be  angry  for  the  gourd. 

But  we  do  not  well ;  and  we  are  liable  to  three  mis- 
takes about  them,  which  being  once  understood,  we 
shall  be  able  very  thoroughly  to  disarm  them. 

Our  first  mistake  is,  that  we  think  that  there  is  a 
special  Providence  in  the  great  troubles,  but  no 
Providence  at  all  in  the  small  ones.  When  destruc- 
tion yawned  to  receive  him,  the  prophet  recognized 
the  hand  of  God,  and  betook  himself  to  prayer :  "  All 


50  THE   GOURD. 


thy  billows  have  gone  over  me  ;  "  but  when  his  gourd 
wilted,  he  took  to  cursing,  evidently  not  supposing 
that  God  was  in  the  small  event  just  as  much  as 
in  the  greater.  As  if  He  who  made  the  great  sea- 
monster  that  roved  in  the  deep  waters,  did  not 
fashion  just  as  much  the  little  worm  that  ate  into  the 
roots  of  the  vine  that  shaded  the  prophet's  temples. 
So  it  is  always.  Great  calamities  are  "  ordered,"  we 
say ;  and  so  we  are  awe-struck  and  subdued,  and  sub- 
mit with  the  best  possible  grace.  And  yet  the  small 
events  are  ordered  in  just  the  sense  that  the  great 
ones  are ;  since  the  great  ones,  when  you  analyze 
them,  are  nothing  else  than  a  congeries  of  ten  thou- 
sand little  ones ;  and  it  were  absurd  to  say  that  God 
is  in  the  whole,  and  not  in  all  the  little  threads  and 
K  fibres  that  make  up  the  millionth  part.  Just  as  the 
Divine  Omnipresence  glows  in  the  little  violet  which 
you  tread  under  your  feet,  not  less  than  in  the  troops 
of  stars  that  whirl  in  mighty  constellations  through 
the  rounds  of  space,  so  the  Divine  Providence  is 
not  less  in  small  events  than  in  great  catastrophies. 
This  being  always  acknowledged,  you  will  no  more 
be  angry  because  the  gourd  has  wilted,  than  you 
will  be  angry  because  there  fell  at  your  side  the  friend 
whom  you  composed  with  reverence  and  prayer  to 
his  everlasting  rest. 

But   again  :    these  Jonahs  are  very  apt  to    make 
another  mistake,  —  that  of  thinking  they  have  more  to 


THE   GOURD.  51 


bear  than  other  people  have,  and  that  their  annoy- 
ances are  very  peculiar.  They  think,  very  likely, 
that  every  path  but  their  own  is  a  path  of  roses. 
The  worms  that  eat  at  the  root  of  the  gourd  come 
most  to  our  fields  and  gardens ;  the  accidents  of  life 
break  in  upon  our  domestic  arrangements,  while  the 
arrangements  of  others  keep  on  without  interruption ; 
and  those  others  lead  a  charmed  life,  and  so  keep  their 
tempers  sweet  and  cool,  while  ours  are  constantly 
pricked  and  fevered  with  the  nettles  and  the  thorns. 
But  you  would  find,  I  think,  if  the  domestic  history 
of  any  family  were  unrolled  to  you,  that  each  had  its 
full  share  of  these  minor  troubles  ;  that  they  fall 
about  equally  over  the  surface  of  society,  and  are 
distributed  somewhat  on  the  principle  of  the  rain. 
Sometimes  there  is  more  here,  and  less  there  ;  but 
the  average  quantity  is  about  the  same  every  year, 
and  alike  in  one  place,  as  another  of  the  same  latitude. 
So  these  infinitesimal  griefs  are  distributed  silent  and 
unseen,  as  indispensable  in  the  probation  of  man. 

But  we  are  liable  to  still  another  mistake.  As 
with  all  other  little  things,  we  are  very  likely  to 
undervalue  them  as  tests  of  character,  and  as  having 
a  mighty  and  transforming  power  upon  our  whole 
inward  being,  and  shaping  the  very  soul  itself  to  its 
high  destiny.  In  the  small  trials,  the  action  of  the 
soul  is  perfectly  free  and  spontaneous ;  and  so  its 
very  flavor  and  quality  are  made  manifest.     It  is  not 


52  THE   GOURD. 


so  in  the  great  trials,  when  the  mighty  billows  break 
over  us,  and  we  bend  like  an  osier  to  the  waves.  In 
those  great  trials,  there  is  one-half  of  our  nature  that 
is  hushed  and  held  in  abeyance ;  and,  under  the 
Divine  compassion,  it  might  be  like  sailors  in  a 
storm,  we  repent  of  our  sins,  and  bow  down  in 
prayer.  How  fervently  the  prophet  prayed  out  of 
what  he  calls  the  bowels  of  hell !  What  else  could 
he  do  ?  He  must  seek  the  Divine  refuge  then,  for 
nothing  else  remained.  It  is  quite  otherwise  when 
he  sits  at  ease,  and  waits  to  see  Nineveh  destroyed. 
Then  he  acts  himself ;  and  his  soul  rays  out  of  him 
without  hinderance.  In  the  great  trials,  the  Lord 
bends  us,  and  holds  us  in  his  hand.  In  the  little 
ones,  we  spring  back  to  our  normal  condition  ;  and  so 
we  put  our  very  selves  into  these,  and  fill  them  out 
with  just  what  we  are.  See,  then,  how  vastly  impor- 
tant is  their  place  in  the  great  school  of  Providence, 
that  trains  us  for  immortality.  The  little  trials  are, 
in  fact,  the  only  real  ones  ;  for  those  do  try  us,  and 
test  our  quality,  and  show  to  what  extent  our  regen- 
eration is  advancing.  When  rent  by  ghastly  wounds, 
we  lie  submissive  and  bleeding.  When  pricked  by 
thorns,  our  spirit  rays  out  of  us  its  own  fragrance  ; 
and  when  the  very  spirit  of  Christ  —  gentleness, 
goodness,  and  long-suffering  —  flows  out  spontane- 
ously into  the  smaller  trials,  and  makes  them  fra- 
grant with   the  breath  of  heaven,  then  only  are  we 


THE   GOURD.  53 


ripening  for  the  heavenly  abodes.  See  their  place, 
then,  in  the  school  of  probation  we  are  going 
through,  and  how  constantly  and  surely  they  are 
passing  judgment  on  our  inward  state  and  qualities. 

In  truth,  we  are  not  fit  for  any  great  trial  or  emer- 
gency until  we  have  first  learned  to  pass  through  the 
smaller  ones  with  serenity  and  meekness,  any  more 
than  a  child  is  fit  for  the  higher  schools  until  he  first 
learns  the  rudiments  and  the  alphabet.  The  smaller 
trials  of  every  day  are  the  primary  schools  of  Provi- 
dence ;  and  out  of  these,  if  at  all,  we  pass  to  the 
higher  ones,  and  take  up  the  sublimer  and  more  tri- 
umphal strains,  "  I  am  persuaded,  that  neither  death 
nor  life,  nor  the  principalities  and  powers  of  angels, 
nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height, 
nor  depth,  nor  any  power  in  the  whole  creation,  shall 
be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is 
in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 


SPIRITUAL    RESURRECTION. 


John  V.  25  :  "  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  the  hour  is  coming,  and  now  is,  when 
the  dead  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God :  and  they  that  hear  shall  live." 

IT  was  a  scene  of  desolation  and  death.  Jesus 
looked  around  him,  and  saw  among  the  Jewish 
people  only  a  dead  formalism,  and  among  the  Gentile 
people  only  stolid  ignorance  of  all  spiritual  things. 
There  was  the  droning  of  the  synagogues,  but  the 
worship  had  become  dead,  —  worship  in  which  there 
was  very  little  knowledge  of  God,  or  love  of  men ;  and 
outside  the  synagogues  were  the  heathen  population, 
among  whom  belief  in  their  own  gods  had  ceased  to 
be  operative.  It  is  in  reference  to  this  state  of  things 
that  Jesus  says  to  the  Jews,  "  The  time  is  coming, 
and  now  is,  when  the  dead  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the 
Son  of  God  :  and  they  that  shall  listen  to  it  shall 
live." 

The  words  very  soon  were  fulfilled.  Jesus  departs 
from  Judaea  into  Galilee,  He  leaves  Jerusalem,  where 
his  message  was  rejected,  and  in  Galilee  organizes  his 
two  bands  of  disciples,  the  twelve  and  the  seventy; 
and   they   go   out   and   preach.      It   was   not   many 


SPIRI TUA  L   RES  URRE  C  TION. 


months  before  all  Galilee  was  shaken  from  sleep. 
Jesus  says,  when  they  bring  back  reports  of  their 
mission,  "  I  see  Satan  as  lightning  falling  from 
heaven.  I  see  his  power  going  out  like  a  meteor 
trailing  down  the  sky."  The  revolution  which  began 
in  Galilee  rolled  up  to  Jerusalem  ;  and  the  powers 
there  saw  that  they  must  go  down  under  it,  unless 
they  could  put  the  Author  of  it  out  of  the  way.  They 
did  put  Him  out  of  the  way ;  and  they  brought  Him 
more  directly  into  the  way  again  ;  for  He  came  to  his 
church  and  his  people  from  the  spiritual  side  in  the 
power  of  his  resurrection. 

It  is  the  moral  resurrection  which  is  described  in 
the  text :  waking  out  of  spiritual  torpor  and  death  at 
the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God.  The  words  of  the  text, 
however,  had  their  fulfilment,  not  alone  at  that  hour, 
and  there  in  Palestine,  but  ever  since,  when  men 
listen  to  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God.  But  what  is 
this  spiritual  awakening,  this  new  consciousness  in 
human  nature,  produced  by  the  voice  of  Christ,  when 
they  that  listen  do  live  ?  The  resurrection  from  death 
unto  life  through  tJie  voice  of  the  Christ  in  the  human 
soul, — let  us  make  this  the  theme  of  discourse  this 
Easter  morning. 

"Spiritual  deaths  "sleeping  in  the  dust,"  "dead 
in  sin,"  "lying  in  the  grave,"  all  this  phraseology  is 
used  in  the  New  Testament  to  describe  a  state  of 
religious  indifference  and  insensibility.     It  is  want  of 


56  SPIRITUAL   RESURRECTION. 

thought,  want  of  interest,  want  of  care  or  attention 
towards  the  great  questions  that  appeal  to  man  as  a 
spiritual  being.  The  indifference  may  not  be  uniform 
and  unbroken ;  but  with  many  persons  it  prevails  at 
last,  and  quenches  all  earnest  faith  and  all  deep  and 
fervid  sensibility.  The  most  confirmed  unbeliever  is 
not  uniformly  indifferent.  He  may  have  only  post- 
poned the  question  for  a  convenient  season,  that 
never  comes.  There  are  times  when  a  light  from 
above  flashes  down  among  his  faculties,  and  startles 
him  with  a  glimpse  of  the  mysterious  grandeur  of  his 
being.  "  What  went  before  me,  and  what  will  follow," 
says  one  of  these  men,  "  I  regard  as  two  black,  im- 
penetrable curtains  which  hang  down  at  the  extremi- 
ties of  human  life,  and  which  no  living  man  has  yet 
drawn  aside.  Behind  the  curtain  of  futurity  a  deep 
silence  reigns.  None  who  have  once  penetrated  the 
veil  will  answer  those  they  have  left  behind.  All  you 
can  hear  is  a  hollow  echo  of  your  question,  as  if  you 
shouted  into  a  chasm."  And  having  shouted  into 
the  chasm,  and  got  no  answer,  he  concludes  no 
answer  is  to  be  had  ;  and  so  buries  himself  deeper, 
and  sleeps  sounder  than  ever,  in  his  spiritual  grave. 
But  let  us  come  more  directly  to  the  signs  and  indica- 
tions of  spiritual  death. 

I  call  that  a  state  of  spiritual  death  where  there 
is  no  earnest  inquiry  in  regard  to  fundamental  truth, 
where   there  is   no  time  set    apart   for   the  subject, 


SPIRITUAL   RESURRECTION.  57 

where  it  is  never  approached  with  the  brooding  spirit 
of  thought.  This  indifference  often  takes  the  form 
of  a  false  liberality,  or  an  affected  contempt  for  dis- 
putes and  controversies  about  religion.  Its  language 
sometimes  is,  "  I  am  sick  of  hearing  about  doctrines 
concerning  which  nobody  agrees.  Let  them  have  the 
whole  dispute  to  themselves.  I  stand  aloof.  I  care 
nothing  about  it.  I  mind  my  own  business,  being 
quite  sure  that  there  can't  be  much  good  in  that 
which  is  the  subject  of  so  much  division  and  dis- 
agreement." If  the  point  of  the  objection  were,  that 
we  ought  not  to  approach  in  a  wrong  temper  of  mind 
a  subject  of  so  much  consequence,  it  were  all  well. 
But  more  than  this  is  implied  in  this  train  of  remark. 
It  is  an  aversion  to  the  whole  subject  of  gospel  truth, 
an  unwillingness  to  enter  in  earnest  upon  its  lessons. 
And  what  a  position  is  this  for  a  rational  and  immor- 
tal mind  to  hold  and  defend!  God  is  seeking  to  come 
to  us,  and  find  us,  and  enrich  us  with  Himself.  His 
word  and  his  works  copy  out  his  eternal  mind,  and 
show  forth  his  purposes,  and  proclaim  his  perfect  will. 
It  is  against  these  that  such  a  person  closes  his  eyes 
or  turns  away,  and  says,  "  I  care  nothing  about  it." 
Well  do  the  Scriptures  compare  this  indifference  to 
sleep  in  the  grave.  The  man  who  sleeps  is,  for  the 
time  being,  dead  to  all  the  magnificence  about  him. 
The  light  of  the  morning  is  pouring  through  his  win- 
dows, the  earth  is  rejoicing  as  if  created  anew,  and  a 


58  SPIRITUAL   RESURRECTION. 

thousand  objects  have  put  on  afresh  their  garments 
of  beauty  and  brightness.  But  all  this  is  lost  upon 
the  man  who  sleeps :  his  mind  is  a  blank,  or  he  con- 
verses only  with  phantoms  ;  he  is  insensible  as  the 
clods  beneath  him  to  all  the  glowing  scenery  that 
opens  above  and  around  him.  It  is  just  so  with 
those  who  are  spiritually  asleep.  There  is  a  world  of 
spiritual  light  against  which  their  eyes  are  closed ; 
there  is  a  system  of  truth  which  explains  the  myste- 
ries of  our  lowly  condition  ;  there  is  a  Christianity 
which  sheds  a  Divine  radiance  over  all  our  affairs, 
and  opens  a  world  within  us  and  a  world  beyond, 
revealing  its  objects  in  colors  of  heavenly  brightness. 
And  all  this  has  no  existence  to  those  that  are  asleep, 
who  will  not  inquire  and  learn,  and  come  to  the  truth 
as  it  is  in  Jesus.  Maintain,  if  you  will,  this  indiffer- 
ence, but  know  also  that  the  morning  hath  strewn 
the  earth  with  light,  and  that  skies  you  never  look 
upon  are  bending  over  you. 

Again :  that  is  religious  indifference  where  one 
makes  no  inquiries  about  himself,  the  condition  of  his 
own  mind  and  heart,  how  he  stands  affected  toward 
God,  and  whether  or  not  he  is  prepared  to  meet  Him 
in  judgment.  He  should  not  only  ask  what  is  true,  but 
he  should  ask  specifically  what  are  the  conditions  of 
his  salvation,  and  whether  or  not  he  has  complied  with 
them.  He  is  asleep,  he  is  dead,  who  has  not  revolved 
this  question  with  all  that  solicitude  and  care  which 


SPIRITUAL   RESURRECTION.  59 

its  importance  demands.  For  we  stand  affected 
toward  God,  and  toward  his  universe,  and  toward 
eternity,  by  the  state  of  mind  and  heart  within  us ; 
for  here  are  the  causes  that  create  for  every  man  a 
paradise  or  a  hell.  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he 
gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  "  Un- 
doubtedly the  question  crosses  everybody's  mind, 
more  or  less.  "  What  am  I,  and  what  shall  I  be- 
come?" But  with  the  man  not  perseveringly  insensi- 
ble, it  will  be  more  than  a  casual  inquiry.  He  will 
often  retire  into  himself ;  he  will  come  with  a  silent 
and  reverent  mind  to  his  Bible,  and  give  himself 
thoroughly  to  the  work  of  examination.  He  will 
know  whether  or  not  he  can  "  read  his  title  clear  ;  " 
and  he  will  revolve  the  question  with  the  charter  of 
his  salvation  open  before  him.  Who  are  those  men 
who  come  with  ripe  experience,  with  heaven-lifted 
eyes,  with  trust  which  the  world  cannot  shake,  and 
with  a  piety  which  the  world  cannot  chill  ?  Did  they 
sleep  themselves  into  such  a  state  of  mind  ?  No. 
They  come  from  watchings  and  private  communings, 
which  sometimes,  even  at  midnight,  have  "  chased 
repose  from  their  eyelids."  They  are  those  who  have 
retired  often  from  the  strife  of  men  and  the  conflicts 
of  business,  and  sent  home  questionings  of  them- 
selves. And  often  have  they  found,  that  when  with 
the  world,  they  felt  satisfied  with  themselves,  yet 
when  retired,  and  looking  into  their  hearts,  the  sins 


60  SPIRITUAL   RESURRECTION. 

of  years  would  "  stream  o'er  their  memories  like  a 
flame ; "  and,  when  holding  to  their  minds  the  mirror 
of  God's  word,  gleams  of  eternity,  not  less  vivid, 
would  reveal  them  to  themselves.  These  are  the 
hours  when  the  answer  to  the  question,  "  What  shall 
I  do  to  be  saved  ? "  comes  at  length  distinct  and 
definite,  and  when  the  problem  of  destiny  is  solved. 
However  much  of  stir  and  of  noise  one  may  make  in 
the  world,  yet  he  is  asleep  in  its  dust,  he  is  insensi- 
ble to  those  things  which  are  of  eternal  importance  to 
himself,  unless  he  comes  earnestly  to  this  business  of 
self-examination. 

Again :  I  call  that  a  state  of  spiritual  death,  where 
there  is  no  confession  of  the  religion  of  Christ,  no 
combination  and  effort  to  extend  its  sway.  Any  one 
who  has  had  a  living  experience  of  the  hope,  the 
peace,  the  renovation,  which  comes  of  religious  faith, 
will  hear  ever  the  call  within  him  to  impart  it. 
Hence  the  church  of  Christ,  if  the  Christ  live  within 
it,  is  by  necessity  a  missionary  society.  It  is  a  force 
in  the  world,  to  redeem  the  world  and  save  it ;  and, 
where  the  Christ  is  truly  received,  He  gathers  his 
followers  around  Him  as  their  living  Head,  and  fulfils 
his  promise  with  them,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway," 
and  through  this  new  organism  goes  forth  to  serve 
the  world.  "  Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  in  my 
name,"  is  the  promise,  "there  am  I  in  the  midst  of 
them."     Where  they  do  not  gather  in  his  name,  and 


SPIRITUAL  RESURRECTION.  61 

do  his  work,  his  life  dies  out  of  them,  if  they  ever  had 
it.  "  For  if  a  man  abide  not  in  me,  he  is  a  branch 
cut  off,  and  he  withers  and  dies." 

Such  are  the  symptoms  of  what  Jesus  calls  the 
spiritually  dead  ;  and  what  is  the  resurrection  out  of 
this  state,  which  He  describes  ?  Answer  :  It  is  a  new 
consciousness  of  life  ;  and  its  first  token  is  a  new  con- 
sciousness of  the  truth  of  the  soul.  Spiritually  dead 
men  do  not  really  know  that  they  have  souls.  They 
really  regard  themselves  as  a  more  intelligent  race  of 
animals,  who  live  and  die  only  a  more  rational  animal 
life  and  death.  Yea,  the  scientists  to-day  are  debating 
the  question,  whether  any  thing  more  is  to  be  made 
of  a  man  than  that.  The  first  boon  which  the  gospel 
brings  is  an  intense  and  vivid  consciousness  of  the 
value  of  the  soul,  —  a  value  so  great  that  it  flings  dim- 
ness over  all  other  values ;  so  that  if  a  man  gain  the 
whole  world,  and  lose  the  soul,  he  suffers  an  infinite 
loss.  It  is  not  merely  the  fact  of  immortality  that 
gives  this  consciousness.  No  :  the  first  operation  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  within  you,  will  make  you  conscious 
of  an  untold  capacity,  both  for  suffering  and  joy,  —  a 
suffering  and  a  joy  compared  with  which  the  pains 
and  pleasures  of  the  body  are  contemptible  indeed. 
Said  a  man  once  who  had  perverted,  neglected,  and 
abused  his  spiritual  nature,  and  drowned  the  con- 
science out  of  it,  but,  waking  up  too  late  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  its  tremendous  reality,  "This  body  is  all 


62  SPIRITUAL   RESURRECTION. 

weakness  and  pain  ;  but  my  soul,  as  if  stung  by  tor- 
ment to  greater  strength  and  spirit,  is  full  powerful  to 
reason,  and  full  mighty  to  suffer;  and  that  which  tri- 
umphs within  the  jaws  of  immortality  is  doubtless  im- 
mortal;" and  as  for  a  Deity,  "  Nothing  less  than  an 
Almighty  could  inflict  what  I  feel."  And  such  is  the 
twofold  resurrection  of  all  who  are  in  the  graves  of 
spiritual  death,  who  come  forth  at  the  voice  of  the 
Son  of  God.  "  They  that  have  done  good  to  the  res- 
urrection of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil  to  the 
resurrection  of  condemnation."  The  soul  waked  up 
to  a  vivid  consciousness  of  its  own  power,  neither 
enjoys  nor  suffers  like  an  animal.  There  is  an  angel 
tone  to  its  song  of  victory,  and  something  more  than 
mortal  mingles  in  the  voice  of  its  wail.  But  another 
and  decisive  token  of  the  resurrection  from  spiritual 
death  is  the  Christ  of  consciousness,  —  in  Paul's  lan- 
guage, the  Christ  formed  within,  as  the  hope  of  glory. 
"  I  in  them,"  says  Jesus,  "  and  thou  in  me,  that  they 
may  be  made  perfect  in  one,  and  that  the  world  may 
believe  that  thou  didst  send  me."  It  is  the  faith  in 
Christ,  and  the  love  of  Christ,  growing  more  full  and 
abounding,  till  his  spirit  is  your  spirit,  his  life  your 
life,  his  filial  love  and  tenderness  entering  into  you 
and  giving  you  a  heart  of  flesh  beating  warm  and  full, 
and  throwing  off  the  old  spiritual  death  robes.  It  is 
both  a  new  heart  and  a  new  mind.  If  you  have  this, 
you  will  love  his  service,  and  love  his  work,  and  love 


SPIRITUAL  RESURRECTION.  63 

his  church,  and  bring  into  it  souls  consecrated  to 
Him ;  for  if  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  crea- 
ture. "  Old  things  have  passed  away.  Behold  all 
things  have  become  new."  Such  is  death,  and  such 
is  resurrection, — the  only  death  that  is  to  be  feared, 
and  the  resurrection  to  everlasting  life. 

Bear  with  me  in  a  word  of  exhortation  and  applica- 
tion of  this  subject.  What  avail  these  blessed  Easter 
mornings  if  they  find  you  in  the  graves  of  spiritual 
death  ?  Has  the  Christian  gospel,  which  is  "  the 
word  of  the  Son  of  man,  "  ever  awakened  you  to  a 
vivid  consciousness  of  the  real  value  of  the  souls  that 
throb  within  you  ?  Do  you  know  their  untold  capaci- 
ties for  joy  and  for  suffering  ?  Do  you  know  the  gran- 
deur and  the  tremendous  possibilities  of  your  own 
immortal  natures  ?  If  so,  I  wonder  you  do  not  seem 
to  be  more  alive  to  the  reality.  Has  Jesus  Christ  ever 
dawned  upon  you,  not  as  a  man  who  died  in  Palestine 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  and  whom  you  have 
done  with,  but  as  the  Risen  and  the  Glorified,  the 
God  with  us,  the  Head  of  his  church,  who  calls  to 
you  out  of  the  bending  heavens,  and  calls  you  to  a 
consecration  to  Him  and  his  service  ?  Rise  !  Oh,  rise 
with  Him  out  of  these  graves  of  religious  indifference 
and  insensibility  !  Gather  round  Him  as  your  living 
Head ;  and  then  you  will  share  in  the  glory  of  his 
resurrection ;  for  touched  by  Him,  and  made  sharers 


64  SPIRITUAL  RESURRECTION. 

of  his  spirit,  his  love,  and  his  work,  your  souls  within 
will  become  conscious  of  an  inheritance  and  a  joy, 
compared  with  which  these  earthly  riches  are  as  dross 
to  the  imperishable  gold. 


CONVERSION. 


Acts  XXVI.  19  :  "I  was  not  disobedient  unto  the  heavenly  vision," 

THE  conversion  of  Saul  of  Tarsus  is  one  of  the 
most  prominent  facts  in  the  Christian  history; 
and  it  belongs  to  that  section  of  Christian  history 
which  has  never  been  called  in  question.  There  are 
four  Epistles  of  Saint  Paul  which  the  most  searching 
and  captious  criticism  accepts  as  genuine ;  and  in 
these  the  conversion  of  Saul  of  Tarsus  is  described 
in  all  its  graphic  details.  It  was  only  about  twenty 
years  after  the  death  and  ascension  of  Christ ;  and 
even  if  the  Gospel  histories  had  not  come  down  to  us, 
the  experience  and  the  work  of  Saint  Paul  fling  back 
a  light  over  the  whole  ground,  and  show  its  necessity 
as  the  basis  of  what  follows.  The  sceptical  criticism 
tries  to  account  for  Saul's  conversion  by  the  supposi- 
tion, that  he  had  fits  or  swoons,  and  saw  only  the 
spectres  of  his  own  mind.  If  so,  it  is  the  first  in- 
stance in  which  fits  and  swoons  have  resulted  in 
such  enlargement  of  intellectual  power  as  to  mould 
the  thought  of  the  world  for  eighteen  centuries. 
But  for  other  reasons  the   conversion   of    Saul  of 


66  CONVERSION. 


Tarsus  is  a  subject  of  exceeding  interest.  It  illus- 
trates the  nature  of  all  conversion,  and  the  power  of 
Christianity  in  producing  it. 

The  city  of  Damascus  is  about  six  days'  journey 
from  Jerusalem.  It  stands  on  a  green  oasis  amid  a 
vast  desert  of  sand,  watered  by  crooning  brooks,  and 
embowered  by  delicious  shade.  Here  was  a  syna- 
gogue of  the  Jews ;  and  some  of  its  members  had 
been  converted  to  Christianity.  Saul  comes  from 
Jerusalem,  armed  with  letters  from  the  Sanhedrim, 
to  bring  the  apostates  to  punishment.  There  is 
something  in  his  errand  uncommonly  cruel,  even  for 
a  Jew  ;  for  not  only  men,  but  helpless  women,  are  to 
be  dragged  forth,  and  stoned  to  death.  He  is  near 
the  end  of  his  journey ;  and  Damascus,  gleaming 
through  its  palm-trees,  is  already  in  sight.  He  is 
attended  with  a  band  of  police-officers  to  help  him  in 
his  work.  The  sun  glares  hot  upon  the  sands ;  and 
you  will  see  how  much  is  meant  when  we  are  told 
that  a  brightness  greater  than  the  Syrian  noon  now 
surrounds  these  travellers,  and  overpowers  them. 
You  will  notice  the  difference  in  the  impressions 
made  on  the  senses  of  the  travellers.  We  have  three 
different  narratives  of  the  event,  which  seem  at  first 
to  disagree  in  minor  details,  though  the  disagreement 
disappears  on  critical  examination.  They  all  witness 
a  light  so  sudden  and  intense  that  it  blots  out  the 
Syrian  day.     The  blaze  of   a   greater  light   involves 


CONVERSION.  67 


them.  They  cannot  bear  it,  and  fall  upon  their  faces. 
They  all  hear  a  sound  ;  but  only  to  Saul  there  is  a 
form  within  the  light,  and  words  within  the  sound,  — 
Hebrew  words,  in  which  his  own  name  is  articulated 
aloud,  "  Saul !  Saul !  why  persecutest  thou  me  ?  It 
is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against  the  goads.  As  vainly 
as  the  ox  resists  the  sharp  irons  which  drive  him,  so 
vainly  do  you  resist  my  power  that  takes  hold  of  you, 
and  turns  you.  Go  into  the  city,  and  it  shall  be  told 
you  what  to  do." 

He  tries  to  go,  but  he  is  in  midnight  darkness. 
The  rest  see  again,  but  to  Saul  the  green  city  is 
blotted  out.  He  started  from  Jerusalem,  the  fierce 
spirit  of  the  enterprise,  breathing  threatening  and 
slaughter.  He  enters  Damascus,  where  they  lead 
him  among  the  purling  brooks,  helpless  as  a  child ; 
and  he  is  lodged  in  charity  at  the  house  of  one  of 
those  Christians  he  came  to  persecute.  Such  is  what 
is  generally  known  as  the  conversion  of  Saul  of 
Tarsus  ;  but  we  have  not  yet  come  to  the  conversion 
itself.  We  must  not  suppose,  from  the  garb  of 
marvel  in  which  it  comes  down  to  us,  that  the  con- 
version itself  was  exceptional  or  anomalous.  No 
genuine  conversion  ever  suspends  the  laws  of  the 
mind,  else  why  was  this  man  selected  from  among 
others  ?  and  why  was  not  the  whole  Jewish  nation 
converted  in  a  mass  to  Christianity  ?  We  lay  off 
what  is  only  special  and  adventitious ;  and  then  we 


68  CONVERSION. 


shall  see,  in  what  remains,  what  all  Christian  conver- 
sion must  be. 

i.  The  peculiarity  in  the  case  of  Saul  was  the 
open  vision  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  necessary  to  his  conversion  to  Chris- 
tianity, and  had  no  necessary  connection  with  it.  It 
was  because  this  man  was  to  be,  not  only  a  Christian, 
but  an  apostle.  To  be  an  apostle,  it  was  necessary 
that  he  should  see  the  Lord.  To  be  an  apostle,  the 
disciple  must  not  only  have  seen  his  Lord  in  the 
flesh,  but  must  see  Him  after  his  resurrection.  For 
the  apostles  were  to  be  witnesses  of  that  fundamen- 
tal fact  of  Christianity.  They  were  not  only  to 
preach  Christ,  but  immortality  brought  to  light,  not 
through  the  reasonings  of  philosophy,  but  through 
the  open  demonstrations  of  the  spirit-world.  Hence 
the  language  of  Christ,  "  I  have  appeared  unto  thee 
for  this  purpose,  —  to  make  thee  a  witness  of  those 
things  which  thou  hast  seen."  And  ever  afterwards, 
when  he  speaks  of  his  commission  as  an  apostle,  he 
appeals  to  the  fact  that  he  has  seen  the  Lord  Jesus. 
It  is  not  logic,  but  testimony,  and  testimony  to  things 
revealed ;  revealed  not  to  our  groping  senses,  but  in  a 
light  so  broad  and  intense  as  to  eclipse  the  sun  of 
noonday.  The  other  apostles  make  the  same  appeal 
the  ground  of  their  mission.  "  This  same  Jesus,"  as 
said  Peter  amid  the  Pentecostal  scene,  "hath  God 
raised  up,  whereof  we  are  all  witnesses?     Paul  proba- 


CONVERSION.  69 


bly  had  never  seen  Christ  in  the  flesh  :  but  he  is  now 
at  Jerusalem,  only  twenty  years  after  the  death  of 
Christ,  when  the  blood  of  his  martyrdom  was  still 
fresh  upon  Calvary,  and  all  the  events  of  his  won- 
drous ministry  were  fresh  upon  the  tongues  of  men ; 
so  that  the  testimony  and  apostleship  of  this  man 
alone,  all  other  history  aside,  bring  those  great  events 
before  us,  almost  as  the  things  of  yesterday. 

2.  We  must  look  afterward  to  find  the  genuine 
conversion  of  Saul  to  Christianity.  For  three  whole 
years  after  this  remarkable  vision  he  disappears  from 
history.  He  appears  neither  at  Jerusalem  nor  at 
Damascus,  but  retires  into  Arabia.  What  his  experi- 
ence and  employment  there  were  he  has  not  told  us ; 
but  we  are  not  left  in  doubt  from  the  nature  of  the 
case.  There  he  gives  his  remarkable  powers  to  the 
investigation  of  this  new  system  of  faith  ;  there 
all  his  Jewish  learning  comes  into  play ;  there  are 
searched  the  old  prophecies  which  converge  in  lines 
of  light  to  the  day  of  fulfilment ;  there  the  message 
of  the  risen  Christ  is  pondered ;  there  Paul's  large 
discourse  of  reason  brings  the  new  faith  to  the  test 
of  examination ;  there  new  communings  are  had  with 
the  risen  Christ ;  and  there  the  Holy  Spirit  comes, 
with  its  subduing  and  transforming  power. 

There  is  in  all  genuine  religious  experience  a 
secret  province  of  the  soul  which  cannot  be  laid  open 
to  the  common  gaze.     The  reticence  of  the  apostle 


70  CONVERSION. 


respecting  those  three  remarkable  years,  we  can  well 
understand.  It  is  only  when  he  comes  out  of  this 
retirement,  and  re-appears  at  Jerusalem,  that  we  find 
the  wonderful  change.  He  left  it,  a  hard,  persecut- 
ing bigot,  breathing  threatening  and  slaughter.  He 
re-appears,  with  a  heart  brimming  over  with  love  for 
all  mankind,  and  writes  that  chapter  on  charity, 
which  has  been  its  sweetest  lyric  to  all  times  and 
ages.  He  was  a  man  not  to  be  overpowered  by  vis- 
ions, nor  to  surrender  blindly  his  own  reason  and  con- 
science, else  he  could  not  have  been  the  masterly 
logician  we  find  him  afterwards.  He  pauses,  rea- 
sons, examines,  and  prays.  He  takes  three  years  for 
all  this.  And,  out  of  this  profound  experience,  he 
sets  forth  to  others  this  same  Christianity,  with  a 
self-devotion  so  entire,  and  a  logic  whose  links  are  so 
warm  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  the  theology  of  the 
Church  has  been  largely  run  in  its  moulds. 

3.  Lay  off,  then,  the  garb  of  miracle  and  prodigy, 
and  we  come  to  that  experience  of  the  apostle,  which 
shows  what  all  Christian  conversion  must  be.  It  is 
meeting  the  Christ  somewhere  on  the  journey  of  life, 
in  a  light  above  the  mere  light  of  nature,  demanding 
our  obedience.  It  is  the  Divine  Law  laid  supremely 
on  the  conscience,  and  enforced  with  the  sanctions  of 
immortality.  It  may  not  be  on  the  hot  desert  of 
life:  it  comes  sometimes  with  the  first  dawnings 
of  infant  reason,  a  sweetly-beaming  star  that  grows 


CONVERSION.  7 1 


to  the  splendors  of  the  Syrian  noon.  Those  who  are 
turned  thus  early  to  a  Christian  life  do  not  date  their 
conversion  from  one  marked  and  decisive  epoch. 
Even  with  them,  however,  the  process  is  just  the 
same.  The  decisive  choice  is  made,  and  made  so 
early,  that  the  will  is  bent  by  gentle  and  easy  tracta- 
tions  to  the  Divine  Will.  The  light  from  heaven  may 
meet  us  later,  for  the  first  time,  and  on  the  sandy 
deserts  of  sin  and  unbelief.  Then  it  becomes  a  land- 
mark in  our  history,  standing  out  bold  and  palpable ; 
and  all  our  after-life  dates  from  it.  But  the  nature  of 
the  change  is  ever  the  same.  It  is  not  a  mere  crisis 
of  feeling  and  emotion :  it  is  a  change  in  the  grand 
purpose  of  life.  It  is  a  choice  to  live  no  longer  for 
ends  that  are  narrow  and  selfish,  but  for  ends  that  are 
broad,  Christian,  and  humane.  The  heavenly  vision 
breaks  upon  us,  and  the  voice  out  of  it  is  clear  and 
commanding,  and  our  response  to  it  is  strong  and 
decisive,  "  Lord  !  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?  " 
It  is  the  same  law  of  Christ  coming  not  audibly,  but 
not  less  surely,  not  out  of  the  sky,  but  through  the 
heart,  with  a  stillness  like  the  summer  breeze.  You 
hear  it  in  calls  and  pleadings  to  a  Christian  life ;  you 
hear  it  in  the  whole  message  of  the  gospel ;  you  hear 
it  from  the  pages  of  his  Word,  where  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  breathes  through  the  letter,  and  says,  "  Come 
unto  me."  The  open  vision  vouchsafed  to  Paul, 
only  revealed  the  agencies  that  ever  work  within  us, 


72  CONVERSION. 


their  voices  breaking  not  upon  the  ear,  but  upon  the 
reason  and  the  conscience,  because  there  they  speak 
to  our  higher  and  nobler  nature,  and  win  us,  not 
through  the  senses,  but  through  the  deepest  convic- 
tions of  the  soul.  Such  is  the  nature  of  conversion 
as  here  revealed.  Its  results  upon  the  life  and  char- 
acter are  not  less  manifest.  Old  things  pass  away, 
and  all  things  become  new.  The  hardness,  the  hate, 
the  cruelty,  the  evil  passions,  the  Pharisaic  pride  and 
bigotry,  which  made  up  the  Saul  of  Tarsus,  and 
which  are  latent  or  manifest  in  every  natural  mind, — 
all  these  melt  down  and  are  purged  away,  as  the 
Christ  of  consciousness  becomes  full  and  abounding. 
But  we  are  not  to  imagine  that  all  this  takes  place 
through  some  sacred  magic,  or  some  irresistible 
grace.  If  Paul  required  three  years  of  prayer  and 
self-discipline  and  self-application  before  he  took  up 
the  message  of  the  new  life,  let  us  not  imagine  that 
we  are  to  be  exempt  from  the  same  conditions. 
These  conditions  observed,  the  changes  wrought  in 
the  character  are  ever  the  same  to  every  Christian 
believer,  —  the  Christ  coming,  not  through  the  sky, 
but  melting  into  the  soul,  our  Life,  our  Light,  our 
Righteousness ;  transfusing  those  tender  and  humane 
sentiments  that  form  the  Christian  atmosphere  we 
breathe ;  resting  on  our  souls  as  a  new  and  incum- 
bent Law;  giving  us  an  experience    of   the   Divine 


CONVERSION.  73 


Love  such  as  Jew  or  Pagan  never  had  ;  giving  us  the 
evidence  of  a  Life  working  within  our  life  ;  giving  us 
foretastes  of  heaven,  and  foresplendors  of  immortal- 
ity. 

Two  points  of  special  interest  present  themselves 
from  this  subject.  One  has  respect  to  the  dealings 
of  God  with  his  children.  How  tender  is  the  Divine 
reserve  !  He  never  comes  to  us  so  as  to  break  us 
down  into  machines,  but  always  has  respect  to  the 
prerogatives  of  our  spiritual  nature.  He  comes  not 
to  overwhelm  from  without,  but  to  inspire  from 
within,  through  self-convictions  made  deep  and  clear. 
God  is  here,  but  veiled.  Christ  is  here,  but  veiled. 
If  they  broke  upon  us  with  a  light  that  blotted  out 
the  sun,  we  should  need,  all  the  same,  our  days  and 
years  of  thought,  of  prayer,  of  self-examination,  of 
clear  reason  in  the  interpretation  of  the  outward 
phenomena  to  make  sure  that  it  was  no  imposition 
on  our  wildering  senses.  These  outward  phenomena 
alone  convert  no  one.  Otherwise  they  would  be 
given.  Otherwise  not  ^an  unconverted  Jew  would 
have  remained  in  Jerusalem,  and  not  an  unconverted 
man  would  be  living  to-day. 

But  because  of  this  Divine  reserve  in  the  manifes- 
tations from  without,  our  listening  to  the  voice  within 
should  be  the  more  earnest  and  profound.  For 
there  come  the  revealings,  which   we   disobey  with 


74  CONVERSION. 


tenfold  danger.  Out  of  them  comes  the  voice  which 
speaks  with  a  more  commanding,  because  a  more 
interior  authority ;  and  happy  is  he  who  can  say 
when  it  comes  to  him,  "  I  was  not  disobedient  to 
the  heavenly  vision." 


SELF-CONSECRATION. 


Mark  X.  21  :  "  One  thing  thou  lackest." 

HAVE  you  never  observed  that  character  may 
be  perfectly  blameless,  without  any  spots  or 
blemishes  to  which  the  most  fastidious  could  point 
the  finger,  and  yet  you  feel  that  it  lacks  the  crowning 
grace  of  manhood  and  womanhood  ?  Do  you  not 
feel,  even,  that  if  put  to  the  test,  it  would  be  found 
specious  and  illusive,  and  fail  totally  in  the  day  of 
trial  ?  It  is  well  worth  our  most  careful  analysis  to 
ascertain  how  even  Christian  accomplishment  and 
religious  culture  may  be  only  an  appearance,  and 
not  a  reality,  very  sure  to  subside  and  come  to 
nothing  when  God  makes  up  his  jewels.  The  narra- 
tive from  which  I  take  the  text  describes  a  young 
man,  who,  deeply  impressed  with  the  wonderful 
works  of  Jesus,  and  convinced,  evidently,  of  his 
Divine  mission,  comes  to  Him  with  the  expectation 
of  being  his  follower,  and  sharing  the  reward  of  his 
kingdom.  Let  us  for  a  moment  bring  out  this  young 
man's  characteristics,  and  see  what  was  the  thing 
which  he  wanted,  to  give  substance  and  vitality  to 
the  whole. 


J  6  SELF-CONSECRATION. 

1.  His  morality  is  perfect:  here  he  stands  the 
test  where  most  people  would  have  found  rents  and 
stains  upon  their  garments.  There  is  no  more 
perfect  morality  anywhere  than  that  described  in 
the  two  tables  of  the  Decalogue.  Its  requirements 
are  lofty  and  pure,  in  striking  contrast,  not  only 
with  the  abominations  of  heathenism,  but  with  the 
human  codes  of  all  ages.  We  can  point  back  even 
now  to  these  ten  voices  from  Sinai,  as  evidence  that 
Judaism  had  something  in  it  which  was  not  a  human 
development,  but  a  revelation  out  of  heaven,  —  a 
sphere  of  Divine  Light  come  down  amid  the  dark- 
ness. All  these  the  young  man  has  kept  from  his 
youth  up. 

2.  Again :  his  religion  is  perfect  so  far  as  religion 
consists  in  observances  and  ceremonials ;  for  there 
never  was  any  worship  more  complete  and  punctili- 
ous in  all  its  forms  than  the  Jewish.  Its  stated  gifts 
and  offerings  were  perfect  representatives  and  sym- 
bols, Divinely  appointed  and  arranged,  involving  all 
periods  of  life,  from  childhood  up  to  age.  These,  also, 
the  young  man  had  observed  from  his  youth  up. 

3.  Nor  is  this  all.  In  personal  graces  and  endow- 
ments he  is  also  distinguished.  They  appear  in  his 
whole  behavior,  they  bloom  in  all  his  manners. 
He  comes  to  Jesus,  and  comes  kneeling,  with  that 
graceful  deference  painfully  lacking  where  the  spirit 
of  reverence  has  decayed.     So  sweet  and  lovable  is 


SELF-CONSE  CRA  T10N.  7  7 

his  deportment,  that  the  Saviour  is  touched  by  it,  and 
pauses  to  look  at  the  young  man.  "  Beholding," 
says  the  narrative,  "  He  loved  him."  In  these  three 
things  —  an  untainted  morality,  conformity  to  a 
national  religion  Divinely  instituted,  and  in  personal 
gifts  and  graces  —  he  is  rich,  and  in  need  of  nothing. 
What  was  lacking?  Self-renunciation!  That  word 
describes  the  whole  thing  which  was  wanting,  and 
which  being  absent,  all  those  other  acquirements 
were  only  on  the  surface,  and  lacked  a  vital  element 
within. 

But  what  is  this  self-renunciation  ?  Let  us  enter 
into  its  meaning  more  fully.  It  lies  at  the  very 
threshold  of  a  true  life,  which  without  it  has  not  yet 
begun  to  be  Christian ;  and  I  wish,  in  this  sermon, 
to  address  more  directly  my  young  hearers,  to  whom 
I  think  the  call  to  self-consecration  comes  with  spe- 
cial earnestness.  First  we  will  see  what  is  implied 
and  involved  in  self-renunciation ;  then  what  are  the 
mistakes  respecting  it  which  we  ought  to  avoid. 

1.  Every  person  at  some  time,  consciously  or  not, 
comes  to  a  decisive  choice  between  self  and  God. 
He  comes  into  the  free,  conscious  possession  of  the 
most  precious  gifts  of  mind  and  heart  and  soul  and 
golden  opportunity.  He  will  use  them  in  one  of 
two  ways.  He  will  use  them  for  objects  mainly  per- 
sonal, in  which  case  his  end  will  be  supremely 
within  himself;  and  self-seeking  and  self-indulgence 


7 8  S ELF-CO NSE CRA  TION. 

will  be  the  chief  aim  of  his  life.  Even  his  moralities, 
his  worship,  and  his  charities  will  have  only  self  at 
the  heart  of  them  ;  for  they  will  be  the  decorations 
of  his  self-love,  the  gratifications  of  his  vanity  and 
pride.  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  these  gifts  of  mind 
and  heart  and  opportunity  may  all  be  held  as  God's, 
and  not  ours,  —  trusts  committed  to  us,  whereby  to 
serve  Him,  and  fill  the  sphere  He  has  placed  us  in, 
with  beneficence  and  blessing.  When  these  gifts  are 
consecrated  to  God's  service,  the  Christian  life  has 
begun,  and  not  till  then  :  hence  the  sharp  contrasts 
which  the  gospel  presents  to  us,  "  He  that  is  not  with 
me  is  against  me ;  and  he  that  gathereth  not  with  me 
scattereth  abroad."  This  describes  in  full  the  dis- 
tinction between  Christ  and  the  world, — being  con- 
formed to  the  world,  or  being  transformed  by  the 
renewing  of  our  minds.  We  have  been  accustomed 
to  dwell  upon  the  intrinsic  worth  and  capacities  of  a 
human  soul ;  and  there  is  no  exaggeration  here,  for 
it  is  out  of  such  souls  as  are  in  you  that  God  makes 
his  highest  angels.  But  the  worth  of  the  soul  is 
only  found  when  the  soul  is  directed  to  right  ends, 
and  follows  them  with  earnestness  and  singleness  of 
purpose.  If  not  so  directed,  and  that  early,  you  have 
only  to  look  about  you,  and  see  how  all  its  worth  may 
be  sacrificed  and  lost.  Oh,  the  multitudes  of  men 
and  women  who  began  life  with  minds  and  hearts  as 
fresh  as  yours,  but  whose  souls  dwindled  and  dried 


SELF-  CONSE CRA  TION.  7  9 

up  until  you  would  not  know,  except  that  they  wear 
the  human  form,  whether  they  were  immortal  beings 
or  no  !  You  need  not  send  your  imagination  on  into 
the  future  state  in  order  to  understand  what  is  meant 
by  gaining  the  world,  and  losing  the  soul.  To  lose 
the  soul,  is  to  have  its  powers,  once  waking  into  life 
with  all  the  dew  of  the  morning  upon  them,  nar- 
rowed down  towards  nothing,  and  shrunken  and 
shrivelled  up  like  a  scroll,  in  the  pursuit  of  narrow 
and  ignoble  ends.  To  save  the  soul,  is  to  have  its 
powers  heaven-directed  and  baptized  into  some  work 
of  life  paramount  to  all  personal  comfort  and  ease 
and  pleasure ;  to  have  them  merged  in  the  cause  of 
Christ,  which  is  the  cause  of  human  society  and 
progress  and  regeneration.  I  have  come  to  regard  it 
as  one  of  the  beneficent  arrangements  of  Divine 
Providence,  that  so  many  persons  die  young,  and  are 
thereby  saved  from  that  danger  of  collapse  and  dete- 
rioration which  always  attends  unused  or  misdirected 
faculties  here  on  the  earth.  But  this  loss  of  the  soul 
is  not  necessary ;  and  early  self-consecration  is  the 
very  thing  that  will  save  it.  The  difference  between 
a  consecrated  and  an  unconsecrated  life  may  not  be 
obvious  to  you  at  the  start ;  but  their  lines  diverge 
wider  and  wider  asunder,  till  the  space  between 
measures  all  the  difference  between  heaven  and  hell. 

The  subsequent  history  of  the  young  ruler  has  not 
been  given  to  us ;  but  we  know  just  as  well  what  it 


80  SELF-CONSECRA  TION. 

was,  for  we  have  seen  it  repeated  again  and  again. 
Following  him  along  into  manhood  and  age,  we  should 
find  him,  in  religion  probably  a  Pharisee,  whose  inner 
life  had  oozed  out  upon  the  surface,  and  there  hard- 
ened into  a  dry  crust  of  conformity  ;  in  morality,  a 
Jew,  clutching  his  great  possessions  more  desperately, 
strictly  observing  his  legal  righteousness,  without 
any  throbs  of  humanity  and  mercy  beating  through 
it ;  the  bloom  of  youthful  amiability  gone,  as  belong- 
ing only  to  the  surface  of  the  man.  Such  manhood 
becomes  when  the  soul  is  lost  out  of  it,  and  only  the 
semblance  and  the  shell  of  it  is  left. 

An  unconsecrated  womanhood  goes  down  on  the 
same  line  of  deterioration.  Its  spiritual  life  does 
not  grow  richer  and  deeper,  but  the  want  of  moral 
aim  is  attended  with  total  want  of  moral  earnestness  ; 
and  a  want  of  moral  earnestness  makes  the  charac- 
ter superficial  and  frivolous  and  worldly,  and  makes 
all  accomplishments  and  acquirements  mere  devices 
to  gain  the  admiration  of  society ;  and  when  their 
day  is  past,  the  heart  is  left  unsatisfied  and  desolate 
and  cold.  The  gifts  of  mind  and  heart  unused,  or 
used  only  for  private  ends,  always  diminish,  leaving 
only  the  semblance  of  humanity,  without  its  divine 
inspirations  and  rewards.  It  is  not  so  with  a  conse- 
crated life,  which  grows  rich  and  full  as  its  satisfac- 
tions increase.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  you  know  that 
God  is  with  you,  and  that  you  are  in  the  currents  of 


SELF-CONSECRA  TION. 


his  Providence.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  prayer  is 
really  answered  ;  for  we  never  pray  with  true  faith, 
till  we  know  we  are  working  with  God,  and  striving 
for  the  same  ends  that  He  has.  Then  your  life  is  hid 
with  Christ  in  God.  Acting  only  within  the  circle 
of  private  aims  and  interests,  you  must  always  halt 
and  calculate.  You  have  always  something  to  gain 
or  lose,  in  ease,  or  comfort,  or  estate,  or  reputation  ; 
and  you  never  come  into  that  clear  and  single-eyed 
activity  t*hat  unlocks  all  the  faculties,  and  gives  them 
easy  and  healthful  play,  until  you  have  given  them 
to  the  Lord.  Hence,  so  much  talent  that  is  never 
used.  Hence,  too,  the  fact,  that,  when  one  has  passed 
through  this  stage  of  self-renunciation,  he  learns  for 
the  first  time  the  angel  powers  that  slumbered  within 
him.  Then  the  arm  is  nerved,  and  the  heart  is  strong. 
Acting  only  in  the  eye  of  man,  and  calculating 
personal  consequences,  you  hesitate,  and  take  to 
ciphering  to  see  how  it  will  pay.  Acting  only  in 
God's  eye,  and  cast  upon  Him  without  any  reserve,  all 
artificial  limitation  and  halting  leave  you  in  the 
liberty  wherewith  Christ  has  made  you  free.  We 
never  come  into  complete  possession  of  ourselves  till) 
we  have  first  renounced  ourselves,  and  live  alone  for 
Christ,  or  the  work  which  He  gives  us  to  do.  Heneey 
the  prime  purpose  for  which  the  Church  of  Christ 
exists  here  upon  the  earth.  It  is  to  draw  into  it,  and 
organize  and  consecrate  to  his  work,  all  human  souls 


82  SEL  F-  COiXSE  CRA  TIOiV. 

that  will  be  acceptive  of  his  grace  and  love,  that  in 
them  and  through  them  He  may  come  in  his  kingdom, 
and  make  earth  to  blossom  anew.  But  you  will  ask, 
perhaps,  my  young  hearers,  why  not  wait  a  while,  and 
begin  the  Christian  life  by  and  by,  when  we  shall 
have  more  need  of  its  consolations,  and  understand 
more  about  it.  Answer.  For  a  great  many  reasons, 
but  for  one  which  is  prominent  and  decisive  ;  and  it 
is  this.  By  waiting  and  delaying,  you  lose  a  golden 
opportunity  that  never  will  come  round  again.  Only 
one  period  of  youth  is  given  to  us  ;  and  it  is  more 
decisive  and  plastic  over  our  whole  future  being  than 
any  other  period  can  possibly  be.  A  life  consecrated 
at  the  beginning  secures  to  itself  a  whole  treasury  of 
impressions  and  affections  warmed  and  sanctified  by 
the  Holy  Spirit,  which  become  more  central  and 
abiding  than  those  of  any  other  period  of  life.  They 
go  down  deeper  into  our  natures  then,  because  our 
natures  are  more  susceptible  and  tender  to  receive 
them  and  hold  them  than  they  ever  will  be  again. 
Persons,  it  is  true,  sometimes  become  converted  later 
in  life ;  but  they  are  very  apt  to  bring  elements  of 
character  then  which  are  flinty  and  earthly,  and  which 
even  the  fire  of  God's  Spirit  never  melts  out  of  them 
in  this  world,  if  it  does  in  the  world  to  come.  It  is 
to  an  early  self-consecration,  that  our  Saviour  promises 
the  guardian  angels  that  always  behold  the  face  of 
the  Father. 


SELF-CONSECRA  TION.  83 

2.  But  do  not  mistake.  When  I  say  consecration 
to  Christ,  I  mean  the  whole  Christ,  not  anybody's 
poor  human  theories  about  Him.  I  mean  the  Christ 
of  the  New  Testament,  of  his  own  Church  Catholic, 
walking  in  the  midst  of  the  golden  candlesticks, 
melting  through  the  ages  with  greater  and  greater 
power  and  glory;  not  the  Christ  of  some  sect  who 
have  embalmed  his  dead  body,  and  keep  it  laid  away 
in  the  sepulchres  of  a  past  theology,  calling  that  the 
Christ  of  to-day. 

The  difference  between  joining  the  Church  of 
Christ  and  joining  a  sect,  is  this.  The  church,  truly 
Christian  and  Catholic,  will  gather  you  around  Him 
with  no  priest  between,  in  the  full  belief  that  no 
human  creed  can  contain  Him,  that  none  of  our  little 
formularies  exhaust  Him  ;  but  that  your  faith  in  Him 
is  to  grow  larger  and  brighter  as  long  as  you  live, 
and  that  your  experience  of  his  grace  and  love  will 
grow  more  rich  and  tender  to  the  last.  The  sect 
assumes  that  our  first  conception  of  Him  shall  be 
fixed  and  final ;  nay,  that  we  shall  go  back  and  take 
the  interpretation  of  a  dark  age,  five  hundred  years 
ago,  and  embrace  its  skeletons  as  the  Christ  of  to-day. 
Do  not  come  to  Him  in  this  way.  Come  to  Him 
without  any  priestly  mediation,  and  enter  into  the 
freedom  of  his  truth  and  love  ;  and  then  you  are  con- 
secrated to  a  Christian  life,  whose  flowing  on  shall 
be  a  continuous  progress  in  time  and  eternity. 


84  SELF-CONSECRATION. 

Come  to  Him,  then,  that  all  your  aims  may  be 
.;  elevated,  and  made  generous  and  pure.  Come,  that 
on  the  beatings  of  his  heart  your  own  love  may  be 
made  larger  and  warmer  and  deeper.  Come  to  Him 
as  the  perfect  offering  ;  and  as  you  pray,  "  O  Lamb 
of  God,  my  sacrifice,"  seek  at  his  feet  for  a  self- 
renunciation  as  complete  as  his.  Come,  that  your 
faith  in  God  whom  He  reveals  may  be  always  clear, 
and  your  faith  in  his  children  may  be  full  of  hope 
-and  confidence.  Come,  not  to  get  into  heaven,  but 
that  heaven  may  get  into  you,  in  its  spirit  of  humility 
and  never-failing  charity.  For,  believe  me,  unless 
heaven  first  comes  within,  breathed  through  all  the 
interiors  of  your  minds,  you  shall  find,  when  these 
bodies  crumble  about  you,  there  is  an  awful  gulf 
between  heaven  and  you ;  but,  if  here  you  are  one 
with  Jesus  in  heart  and  purpose  and  life,  you  will 
then  be  ready  with  the  elders  about  the  throne,  not 
for  barren  praises,  nor  selfish  delights,  but  for  larger 
and  more  holy  activities  in  the  kingdom  of  universal 
love.  And  then  you  will  look  back  to  the  early  time 
when  you  heard  and  obeyed  the  call  of  the  spirit 
within  to  give  yourselves  to  Christ  without  reserve, 
as  the  hour  when  the  heavens  did  bend  around  you 
with  their  selectest  influence,  and  their  angels  watched 
you  with  a  thrill  of  joy,  that  a  new  soul  had  been  won 
to  their  abodes. 


SELF-CONSE CRA  TION.  8  5 

"  In  childhood's  spring,  —  ah,  blessed  spring  ! 

As  flowers  closed  up  at  even 
Unfold  in  morning's  earliest  beam, 

The  heart  unfolds  to  heaven. 
Ah,  blessed  child,  that  trustingly 

Adores  and  loves  and  fears, 
And  to  a  Father's  voice  replies, 

'  Speak,  Lord  :  thy  servant  hears.'  " 


CONDITIONS    OF   SPIRITUAL 
PROGRESS. 


Psalms  LXXXI.  io  :  "  Open  thy  mouth,  and  I  will  fill  it." 

THE  figure  of  speech  here  used  by  the  Psalmist, 
is  that  of  a  mother  feeding  her  child.  The 
sole  condition  on  the  part  of  the  child  is  to  receive 
what  is  given.  Nothing  great,  nothing  difficult,  is 
required.  No  straining  and  reaching  forth,  but  sim- 
ply opening  the  mouth  to  be  fed,  as  a  condition  of 
health  and  growth,  and  becoming  strong.  And  the 
figure  is  exceedingly  suggestive  as  to  the  conditions 
of  our  spiritual  progress,  —  conditions  which  I  think 
we  are  very  apt  to  make  too  complicated  and  hard. 

A  distinction  which  Unitarians  have  been  prone 
to  overlook,  or  confound  altogether,  I  propose,  in 
this  sermon,  to  bring  out  in  as  clear  illustration  as  I 
can,  and  then  apply  it  to  the  whole  subject  of  spir- 
itual growth  and  progress.  It  is  the  distinction 
between  the  capacities,  the  receptivities,  of  human 
nature,  and  its  inhering  and  independent  force.  By 
its  capacities,  we  mean  its  susceptibilities  to  receive 
what    is   given,  like   the  child's  capacity  to  receive 


CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL   PROGRESS.  87 

food  when  hungry,  or  drink  when  thirsty,  and  thereby 
to  thrive  and  grow.  By  its  original  force,  we  mean 
its  intrinsic  powers,  self-contained  and  self-moving ; 
making  progress,  not  so  much  by  food  received  from 
without,  or  from  above,  as  by  springs  of  action  within. 
By  asserting  and  dwelling  largely  on  these  original 
powers  and  attributes,  Dr.  Channing  unfolded  his 
views  of  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  — views  which 
tone  and  color  his  whole  argument  in  that  excellent 
volume  lately  published,  entitled  "  The  Perfect  Life." 
I  do  not  wish,  by  any  means,  to  controvert  the  argu- 
ment. It  needed  at  the  time  to  be  set  forth  strongly 
and  clearly.  But  I  do  think,  that,  when  we  dwell  too 
exclusively  on  the  intrinsic  force  and  dignity  of 
human  nature,  we  waft  perfume  to  its  pride,  and 
for  real  spiritual  life  and  progress  we  substitute  our 
swollen  conceit  and  vanity;  yea,  more,  we  make 
spiritual  progress  a  mighty  difficult  and  uphill  busi- 
ness. It  is  working  our  way  to  heaven,  and  working 
hard.  It  is  trying  to  warm  ourselves  only  by  fires 
of  our  own  kindling.  It  is  trying  to  move  by  self- 
development,  which  is  very  much  as  if  a  man  should 
try  to  lift  himself.  How  many  people  tried  this  pro- 
cess of  spiritual  culture  till  they  got  discouraged,  and 
gave  it  up,  and  then  went  over  to  Rome,  or  over 
somewhere  else,  where  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
just  make  believe,  and  be  saved  ! 

"  Open  thy  mouth,  and  I  will  fill  it."     The  capa- 


88  CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL  PROGRESS. 

city  of  the  soul,  its  receptivity,  in  distinction  from 
its  power  of  self-moving,  is  the  truth  I  want  to  bring 
out  and  apply.  And  how  wonderful  is  this  capacity 
of  receiving  and  appropriating,  —  simply  the  faculty 
of  opening  the  doors  and  windows  of  your  souls 
for  the  Lord  to  come  in,  bringing  with  Him  the 
wealth  and  glory  which  He  has,  that  He  may  make 
you  sharers  with  Him !  Look  at  this  truth  in  a  three- 
fold application. 

i.  The  whole  subject  of  prayer  is  invested  with  a 
living  interest,  based  on  the  capacities  of  the  soul, 
its  receptivity  of  the  Lord.  No  straining  after  prog- 
ress through  painful  self-culture,  no  baffled  efforts 
to  rise  towards  God  out  of  yourself.  Just  keep  still, 
and  lay  the  hush  of  silence  on  all  your  turbulence, 
and  open  the  door  towards  Him,  and  He  comes  ;  not 
by  noise,  nor  by  voices,  nor  by  visions,  but  by  a 
growing  peace  and  confidence  and  trust,  worth  more 
than  they,  and  which,  in  times  of  suffering  or  times 
of  sorrow,  come  sweetly  as  an  even-song  over  tran- 
quil waters.  You  have  never  found,  perhaps,  this 
place  of  refuge  ?  Well,  it  is  because  you  never 
sought  it;  or,  if  you  did  seek  it,  it  was  too  exclu- 
sively through  self-culture  and  self-development.  It 
was  because  you  shut  yourself  in,  and  never  opened 
your  mouth  that  He  might  fill  it.  The  answer  to 
prayer  as  it  comes  without,  in  giving  rain,  or  in 
healing  disease,  or  in  suspending  or  adapting  to  us 


CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL   PROGRESS.  89 

the  laws  of  the  natural  world,  is  a  theme  on  which 
men  raise  subtle  questions,  or  on  which  the  scientists 
apply  their  prayer-gauge ;  but  all  this  touches  not  the 
heart  of  the  matter.  The  answer  to  prayer  comes 
primarily  and  vitally  within ;  and  the  only  gauge  we 
can  apply  to  it  is  in  the  peace  that  passeth  under- 
standing, and  the  soul  laid  at  rest  on  the  bosom  of 
the  Divine  Love.  It  is  not  a  painful  flight  towards 
God,  but  simply  a  reception  of  Him.  It  does  not 
ask  of  you  great  things  nor  difficult  things  :  it  asks 
you  to  keep  still.  It  is  not  scaling  some  transcendent 
height:  it  is  opening  a  door.  Sometimes  prayer  is 
too  deep,  too  earnest,  and  too  still,  for  words  ;  and 
sometimes  the  Lord  compels  us  to  be  still  in  order 
that  He  may  get  a  hearing  in  us  ;  lays  us  on  some 
bed  of  sickness,  that  He  may  stop  our  noise  and  get 
a  hearing  in  us ;  takes  our  earthly  props  away,  that 
we  may  lean  back  upon  Him;  hushes  dearly-loved 
voices  in  death,  that  his  voice  may  become  more 
distinctly  audible  ;  by  all  methods  of  his  Providence, 
seeking  to  make  us  know,  not  merely  our  power  of 
doing,  but  our  capacity  for  receiving,  and  use  it 
till  the  doors  and  windows  are  all  open  for  Him  to 
enter  in.  And  prayer  the  most  effectual  is  not 
where  there  is  shouting,  and  importunity,  and  end- 
less repetition,  as  if  trying  to  storm  the  throne  of 
God,  and  bring  Him  down,  which  some  people  mis- 
take for  earnestness.     It   is  where  all  our  noise  and 


90  CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL   PROGRESS. 

outcries  have  sunk  into  calm;  and  then,  when  our 
minds  and  hearts  all  open  towards  Him  in  our  stillest 
and  most  listening  moods,  He  comes  on  like  the 
dawn  of  the  morning,  till  his  light  has  flushed  our 
whole  sky  with  its  colors,  and  sent  into  our  hearts 
its  exceeding  and  abiding  peace.  It  is  not  any 
self-chafings,  nor  any  storming  of  the  heights:  it  is 
simply  an  opening  and  a  reception  ;  but,  in  order  to 
this,  be  sure  you  put  the  finger  of  silence  on  all  your 
selfish  passions  and  outcries.  ic  Be  still,"  He  says, 
"  and  know  that  I  am  God." 

2.  Apply  the  subject,  again,  to  the  Divine  Revela- 
tions. There  are  two  views  on  this  subject,  —  one 
based  on  the  intrinsic  native  ability  of  human  nature, 
the  other  based  on  its  faculty  of  reception.  By  look- 
ing exclusively  on  man's  native  abilities,  we  come  to 
believe  that  human  nature  develops  upward  into 
Christ's,  and  produces  Bibles  from  within  ;  and  that 
these  are  the  production  of  its  original  and  intrinsic 
powers.  Revelation  is,  according  to  this  view,  our 
own  human  discovery,  as  we  scale  the  heights  of 
heaven,  and  survey  the  prospect.  But  the  view  of 
man  as  a  recipient  shows,  that,  while  man's  original 
power  of  discovering  Divine  Truth  is  very  small,  his 
faculty  of  recognition  and  reception  of  truth  when 
given  to  him  is  very  great. 

And  here  let  me  give  you  an  historical  fact.  One 
fact  sometimes  is  worth  more  than  a  dozen  theories. 


CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL  PROGRESS.         91 

The  fact  is  this.  In  all  the  history  of  the  race,  no 
instance  has  ever  been  known  of  a  nation  really 
savage  rising  of  itself  into  the  light  of  civilization,  or 
reaching  the  higher  truths  through  self-development. 
Nations  sink  from  civilization  into  barbarism  :  they 
never  rise  by  their  native  impulsions  and  abilities  out 
of  barbarism  into  Divine  Light.  One  such  case  clearly 
pronounced  is  yet  to  be  found.  On  the  other  hand, 
carry  the  Divine  Revelation  to  these  people,  and  see 
their  faculty  of  reception.  The  Sandwich  Islander, 
from  immemorial  time,  lived  in  dread  of  the  demon 
who  inhabited  the  neighboring  volcano.  The  mis- 
sionary brought  to  him  a  revelation  of  God,  and  of 
his  Christ.  The  demon  went  out  as  the  Christ  came 
in ;  and  the  infernal  shadow  passed  off  from  the 
fields,  and  from  the  mind  of  the  native,  which  woke 
to  the  consciousness  of  a  new  spiritual  life.  How 
long,  think  you,  before  he  would  have  reached  this 
result  by  trying  to  lift  himself  into  the  light  ?  The 
Saxon  race,  to  which  we  all  of  us  belong,  have  no 
difficulty  in  electing  between  the  worship  of  Odin 
and  the  worship  of  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  whose  word  came  to  them  from  Palestine, 
and  found  them.  But  if  it  had  not  found  them,  you 
and  I  to-day,  instead  of  being  gathered  here  for  wor- 
ship, might  be  quaffing  from  human  skulls  libations 
to  the  war-god  of  the  north,  or  we  might  be,  by  blood 
and  rapine,  earning  our  heaven  in  the  halls  of  Val- 


92  CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL   PROGRESS. 

halla.  Such  is  the  difference  between  our  original 
powers  of  self-development  and  discovery,  and  our 
capacity  of  reception  and  appropriation  of  Divine 
Truth  ;  between  our  reason  groping  its  private  and 
solitary  way,  and  our  reason  penetrated  and  folded  in 
the  Divine  Splendors. 

The  religion  of  humanity,  as  the  resultant  of  its 
own  efforts  at  discovery,  has  always  been  either  blank 
atheism  or  blind  superstition.  The  religion  of  hu- 
manity, as  the  resultant  of  Divine  Reason  and  the 
human,  one  acting  upon  the  other  and  within  it,  is  a 
sublime  faith  that  regenerates  and  saves.  Neither 
you  nor  I  would  ever  have  discovered  the  future  life ; 
and  our  private  reason  groping  after  it  would  have 
flapped  its  wings  among  chimeras  as  dark  and  vain, 
probably,  as  those  which  the  savages  chased  after. 
And  yet  that  life  may  be  so  unveiled  to  us  that  the 
blazon  shall  be  its  own  irresistible  evidence  ;  for  it 
lifts  up  the  reason  when  it  comes  in  the  transfigura- 
tions of  its  own  glory,  shows  us  this  life  and  the 
other,  which  before  lay  dark,  dead,  and  fragmentary, 
brought  into  symmetry  and  order  and  organic  unity, 
—  a  unity  quite  undiscoverable  by  the  faculties  of  the 
mind,  but  recognizable  when  presented  to  the  open 
gaze. 

While,  therefore,  our  power  of  original  discovery  is 
very  small,  our  faculty  of  recognizing  the  truth  when 
it  comes,  and  knowing  it  when  presented,  is  our  most 


CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL   PROGRESS.         93 

auspicious  endowment  It  is  opening  the  mouth  to 
be  filled  with  bread  from  heaven.  It  is  the  soul 
finding  its  own  through  the  tender  Divine  adaptations 
to  its  profoundest  needs.  As  light  to  the  eye,  as 
music  to  the  ear,  as  food  and  drink  to  him  who 
hungers  and  thirsts,  so,  to  the  reason  and  to  the 
heart,  is  truth  when  unveiled  in  its  benignity  and 
comprehension.  What  I  know  of  God,  and  of  his  will, 
and  of  my  own  destiny,  yea,  of  this  very  world  I  live 
in,  by  merely  diving  into  myself,  or  looking  through 
my  narrow  horizon,  would  be  extremely  meagre. 
What  I  know,  as  given  to  me  in  the  Christ,  extends 
the  horizon  beyond  the  grave,  and  beyond  the  stars, 
and  lets  in  the  sunlight  on  my  private  imaginations, 
ventilating  the  little  house  I  live  in  with  the  airs  of 
Paradise. 

3.  Apply  this  subject  in  yet  another  direction. 
The  virtues  and  the  graces  of  the  Christian  life, 
the  beautiful  flowering  and  fruitage  of  Christian  be- 
lieving, are  one  thing  as  coming  from  your  receptiv- 
ity of  the  Lord,  quite  another  matter  as  the  fruits 
of  mere  self-culture  and  self-development.  Humility 
is  one  of  the  prime  Christian  graces ;  and  it  has  small 
chance  of  cultivation  till  we  acknowledge  ourselves 
recipients  of  the  Lord,  till  we  seek  to  find  Him,  by 
letting  Him  come  to  us  rather  than  by  building  our 
Babels  up  towards  Him,  and  trying  to  scale  his 
heavens  thereby.      Humility  is  not  humiliation  nor 


94  CONDITIONS   OF  SPIRITUAL   PROGRESS. 

self-disparagement.  It  is  simply  rendering"  to  the 
Lord  what  belongs  to  Him,  instead  of  claiming  it  as 
our  own.  We  are  the  most  humble  when  we  think 
least  of  ourselves,  or  put  ourselves  out  of  the  account 
altogether,  and  let  the  Lord  shine  through  us  with 
his  uncolored  sunlight,  without  staining  it  with  our 
own  miserable  selfhood.  As  recipients  of  Him,  we 
own  nothing,  and  therefore  have  nothing  to  be  proud 
of.  For  the  gifts  and  graces  of  Christian  character 
in  which  He  clothes  us,  if  He  clothes  us  at  all,  are 
the  radiations  of  his  own  life  in  us ;  and  these  are 
brightest  and  most  heavenly  when  we  are  least  con- 
scious thereof.  As  to  that  life  which  comes  to  us  by 
prayer,  as  to  that  light  of  Divine  Revelation  which 
folds  our  reason  in  a  higher  wisdom,  there  is  no  room 
for  comparison  of  one  man  with  another,  and  the 
strut  of  our  vanities  looks  hideous  indeed. 

"  We  are  all  beggars  :  poor  and  bare 
We  stand  before  thy  face, 
Save  when  in  borrowed  robes  we  flare, 
Or  shinings  of  thy  grace." 

"  Open  thy  mouth,  and  I  will  fill  it."  The  sermon 
would  be  but  poor  preaching  if  it  failed  to  urge  its 
lesson  upon  those  of  you  who  keep  yourselves  shut 
in  till  you  shut  God  and  his  revelations  clean  out.  I 
have  thought,  sometimes,  that  Unitarians  needed  a 
new  Channing,  to  set  forth  the  receptive  capacities 


CONDITIONS  OF  SPIRITUAL  PROGRESS.  95 

of  the  human  soul  over  against  .its  inherent  dignity 
and  power;  since  its  dignity  and  power  only  come  by 
its  opening  to  the  Lord  and  his  Word,  as  the  buds  of 
spring-time  open  to  the  sun  and  the  rain,  and  thence 
take  on  all  their  greenness  and  glory.  I  do  think 
there  is  less  earnest  and  systematic  study  of  the 
Bible  among  us  than  among  any  other  class  of  Chris- 
tian believers.  What  vast  resources  has  the  Chris- 
tian Sabbath  which  we  have  never  yet  used !  One 
sermon  a  week,  which  must  be  sensational  in  order 
to  be  interesting, —  in  other  words,  very  discursive 
and  very  shallow,  —  affords  small  means  for  any 
adequate  knowledge  of  the  Divine  contents  of  Reve- 
lation. The  Bible-class,  grouping  not  the  children 
only,  but  the  congregation,  with  the  aids  of  modern 
science  for  the  new  interpretation,  might  put  us  in 
the  way  of  some  more  adequate  and  progressive 
knowledge  of  the  Divine  Word,  and  would  show  us 
I  am  persuaded,  what  truths  had  waited  within  its 
covers  for  our  reception.  What  progress  has  been 
made  during  the  last  twenty-five  years  in  religious 
knowledge,  especially  on  the  subject  of  the  future  life 
and  its  relations  to  this  life,  clearing  away  the  gloom 
of  death,  and  the  darkness  of  the  grave  !  It  is  not 
that  any  new  revelation  has  been  made,  but  that  the 
old  Bible  was  full  of  revelations  which  people  slept 
over,  and  would  not  see.  And  still  it  speaks  to  the 
condition  of  our  toiling  humanity  ;   and  while  science 


g6  CONDITIONS  OF  SPIRITUAL   PROGRESS. 

is  doing  its  best,  and  remains  dumb  touching  the 
great  problems  of  eternal  life,  the  invitation  is, 
"Open  thy  mouth,  and  I  will  fill  it."  And  the  call  to 
prayer  is  not  a  call  to  exercise  some  rare  gift  of  volu- 
bility, but  a  call  rather  to  suppress  it,  and  listen  at 
the  open  door.  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door,  and 
knock.  If  any  man  hear  my  voice,  and  open  the 
door,  I  will  come  in,  and  sup  with  him,  and  he  shall 
sup  with  me." 


SUCCESS. 


John  XIX.  30  :  "  It  is  finished  " 

I  DO  not  understand  these  words  to  mean  merely, 
as  some  expositors  would  make  them,  "  Life  is  now 
at  an  end :  death  has  come."  The  Saviour  means, 
"This  gives  completeness  to  my  work  and  mission 
here  on  the  earth."  How  constantly  He  sets  forth 
the  fact  that  He  was  not  to  die  till  his  hour  had 
come  !  And  even  when  the  dangers  and  the  plottings 
grew  thick  around  Him,  there  was  always  a  way  of 
escape  through  them,  until  the  work  He  came  to  do 
had  been  accomplished-.  Not  only  his  death,  but  the 
time  and  method  of  it,  He  takes  up  into  his  plan,  and 
organizes  as  one  of  the  factors  in  working  out  the 
grand  results  of  his  mission.  Once  his  enemies  have 
Him  apparently  in  their  power ;  but  He  glides  out  of 
their  hands,  because  "  his  hour  had  not  yet  come." 
And,  when  the  time  had  arrived,  how  triumphant  is 
his  language !  "  Father,  the  hour  is  come.  Glorify 
thy  Son,  that  thy  Son  also  may  glorify  Thee."  At 
the  beginning,  he  forecasts  his  work,  and  maps  out 
the  plan  of  it.     His  ministry  fills  it  out,  and  rounds  it 


98  SUCCESS. 


into  completeness.  And  so  the  last  words  on  the 
cross,  "  It  is  finished,"  announce  the  consummation 
on  earth  of  a  life  which  has  passed  through  all  its 
stages,  and  has  been  rounded  out  to  its  full  period. 
"  It  is  finished."  That  is  not  a  despondent,  but  an 
exultant  annunciation  ;  as  if  He  had  said,  "  Now  this 
life,  as  to  its  earthly  course,  sounds  the  key-note  of 
its  consummation  and  triumph." 

We  are  prone,  I  think,  to  let  our  faith  run  into 
belief  in  special  providences,  as  if  God  had  a  special 
plan  for  some  to  work  in,  and  held  them  to  it,  while 
others  were  outside  of  it.  Rather,  we  should  believe 
that  the  great  and  illustrious  ones,  and  especially  the 
Christ,  are  the  very  ones  who  bring  the  laws  of  the 
Divine  Providence  into  most  shining  manifestation,  — 
those  same  laws  that  infold  you  and  me  ;  and  that 
of  every  one  who  lives  a  Christian  life,  and  does  its 
work,  those  same  words,  "  It  is  finished,"  can  be 
spoken  only  as  sounding  the  key-note  of  its  con- 
summation and  triumph.  Hence,  you  find  that  those 
men  who  have  felt  themselves  called  to  a  special 
work  have  had  a  kind  of  intuitive  consciousness  that 
they  were  leading  a  charmed  life,  that  they  were 
believers  in  predestination  ;  as  Murray  said  when  his 
enemies  assailed  him,  "  I  am  immortal  on  the  earth, 
so  long  as  God  has  work  for  me  ;  and  when  He  has 
not,  I  no  longer  wish  to  live." 

But  here  a  subject  of  vast  and  vital  interest  opens 


SUCCESS.  99 


before  us.  What  is  a  life  that  is  finished  ?  What 
do  we  mean,  or  what  should  we  mean,  by  those 
words,  "  success  in  life  "  f  No  words  are  more  com- 
mon on  the  lips  of  men,  in  those  questionings  which 
arise  about  the  prosperity  of  each  other,  than  these  : 
"How  has  the  man  succeeded ?  "  And  prayer  for  that 
success  is  the  first  which  the  parent  sends  up  to  the 
throne  when  his  children  go  forth  amid  the  conflicts 
and  the  buffetings  of  this  world.  And  our  feelings 
of  commiseration  are  never  so  full  as  when,  musing 
over  the  end  of  life,  we  cannot  say,  "  It  is  finished  ;  " 
but,  "  It  is  a  failure."  He  has  not  overcome  the 
world,  but  the  world  has  overcome  him  ;  and  there 
he  lies. 

But  what  is  a  finished  life  ?  Finished  in  the  Chris- 
tian sense,  copied  down  from  that  great  master-life  of 
all,  so  that  there  is  neither  excrescence  nor  deficiency  ; 
but,  like  the  statue  which  the  sculptor  clips  and 
finishes,  it  is  handed  over  without  deformity  to  its 
place. 

Now,  there  are  two  classes  of  persons,  two  orders 
of  lives,  which  have  their  beginnings  in  this  world. 
There  are  those  which  have  no  probation  here,  which 
are  taken  out  of  this  world  before  the  period  of  moral 
choosing,  and  whose  probation  falls  on  the  other  side, 
—  infancy  and  childhood  removed  to  that  other  sphere, 
like  flowers  transplanted  to  a  warmer  and  more  genial 
clime  because  the  winds  in  this   were  too  cold  and 


ioo  SUCCESS. 

bleak  for  them.  These  are  without  moral  probation 
here.  But  all  the  others  —  and,  upon  the  whole,  the 
more  favored  ones  —  enter  upon  a  period  of  moral 
choice ;  and  of  these  it  must  be  said  by  all  who  believe 
in  a  Providence,  that,  the  choice  being  rightly  made, 
there  is  no  possibility  of  an  untimely  end. 

This  question  of  a  finished  life  has  two  answers,  — 
a  negative  and  a  positive  one. 

Its  completeness,  let  us  observe  in  the  first 
place,  does  not  depend  upon  its  duration.  There 
may  be  a  beautiful  completeness  in  one's  life,  even 
when  its  sun  goes  down  before  noon  ;  because  it  may 
course  its  way  under  suns  that  come  down  from  a 
higher  sky.  The  man,  we  may  suppose,  had  his 
object :  he  lived  for  it,  and  he  accomplished  it ;  and 
what  more  could  he  have  done  in  this  respect,  if  he 
had  lived  a  thousand  years  ?  The  greatest  life  ever 
lived  on  earth  was  only  thirty  years  in  length.  Others 
may  go  on  to  fourscore  and  fivescore  years,  and  leave 
not  a  trace  behind  them.  Time  with  God  is  nothing, 
as  we  measure  time ;  for  He  measures  life  only  by 
the  events  and  stages  that  make  up  its  transitions 
and  periods,  not  by  months  and  years. 

Again  :  success  is  not  that  sort  of  independence 
which  some  people  dream  of,  when  they  will  be  free 
from  the  anxieties  of  want,  of  misfortune,  and  of  tem- 
poral change.  Some  such  goal  as  this  often  presents 
itself  to  the  golden  visions  of  those  who  are  entering 


SUCCESS.  ■  ioi 


on  the  work  of  life.  That  end  of  pecuniary  inde- 
pendence attained,  it  may  be  an  aid  to  success,  or 
it  may  end  as  most  wretched  failure ;  for  do  you  not 
observe  that  people  who  are  over  anxious  to  obtain 
a  competence  form  a  habit  of  anxiety,  and  are  just 
as  anxious  about  keeping  it  after  they  have  got  it, 
and  just  as  anxious  lest  some  breath  should  blow  it 
all  away  ?  Nor  yet,  again,  is  it  worldly  position,  about 
which  there  is  so  much  strut  and  strife  under  the 
disguise  of  conceit  and  vanity.  Position  in  the  world 
comes  under  the  arrangements  of  God,  whose  laws 
and  conditions  we  have  not  the  making  of;  comes 
when  posts  of  duty  are  to  be  filled,  and  draw  to  them 
the  men  or  women  who  will  fill  them  well.  All  other 
positions  have  only  pasteboard  and  filigree  under 
them  ;  and  even  the  world  sees  this,  and  shakes  them 
down  with  its  laughter. 

i.  But  to  advance  from  the  negative  to  the  positive 
side  of  my  subject,  we  observe,  with  the  great  exam- 
ple before  us,  that  every  life  that  ends  complete  must 
begin  with  a  Divine  mission  and  purpose.  I  mean 
by  Divine  mission,  that  its  work  must  be  chosen 
under  the  recognition  of  a  Providential  guidance. 
Always  there  is  a  baptism  and  a  consecration  to 
some  work  distinctly  placed  in  view  and  held  there. 
There  is  a  baptism  by  the  Jordan,  and  a  voice  from 
heaven  urgent  upon  the  soul,  before  our  probationary 
life  has  a  beginning,  to  say  nothing  of  its  middle  and 


102  SUCCESS. 

its  end.  I  have  heard  of  preachers  who  had  a  "  call." 
But  there  is  a  special  call  to  every  individual,  into 
some  work  best  adapted  to  the  faculties  which 
God  has  given  him,  and  the  opportunities  which 
God  has  thrown  in  his  way.  But,  oh,  the  men  and 
women  that  float  upon  the  stream  of  time,  and 
tend  no-whither,  solely  for  want  of  this  self-direction 
and  consecration !  The  reason  that  is  generally 
given  for  living  without  an  aim  is,  that  there  is  no 
work  to  do.  Every  calling  is  crowded  and  full  ;  and 
some  persons  are  crowded  out.  The  plea  always  and 
everywhere  of  our  indolence  and  pride !  There  is 
always  plenty  of  work  in  this  world,  and  more  than 
enough,  for  all  the  people  who  live  in  it ;  but  some  of 
the  work  is  humble,  —  brings  no  honor  nor  applause, 
albeit  there  is  no  work  in  all  the  myriad  functions 
ordained  by  God  which  is  not  sweet  and  beneficent. 
But  those  that  aim  at  nothing,  always  do  nothing, 
or  else  they  roam  from  one  thing  to  another  ;  and 
they  never  begin  life  with  the  sublime  baptism,  the 
voice  of  whose  clearly  defined  purpose  so  wakes  up 
the  faculties,  that  it  rings  through  the  conscious- 
ness like  the  voice  that  came  down  on  the  baptismal 
waves,  "This  is  my  beloved  Son." 

Here,  again,  the  example  of  Christ  illumines  the 
way  of  all  who  follow  Him.  He  is  the  Messiah,  the 
Sent,  the  Anointed  ;  so  called,  because  the  one 
great  work  was  given   Him  to  do,  and   he  was  born 


SUCCESS.  103 


into  it  and  prepared  for  it ;  anointed,  sent,  came 
even  for  this  cause  into  the  world.  It  burned  in  his 
consciousness  clearer  and  clearer,  till  it  came  as  a 
voice  from  heaven.  Down  in  his  own  humble  sphere, 
and  doing  the  business  of  life,  — that  business  being 
consecrated  to  a  Divine  end,  —  every  follower  of 
Christ  may  see  his  own  work  copied  down  on  a  lower 
plane  from  this  Divine  example;  and  then  all  his 
work  will  be  holy. 

2.  After  a  mission  and  a  purpose,  comes  a  second 
condition,  if  life  is  to  be  finished  or  rounded  to  its 
close,  —  a  religious  faith  that  will  enlighten  that  pur- 
pose and  inspire  it,  and  keep  it  clear  and  strong.  A 
man  must  not  only  aim  at  something,  but  he  must 
have  such  light  and  guidance  that  he  can  hit  the 
mark.  He  must  not  work  blindly,  nor  in  the  dark. 
No  man's  life  is  successful  until  he  has  obtained  clear 
and  settled  religious  convictions  which  illustrate  its 
meaning.  He  has  not  succeeded  until  he  has  grap- 
pled with  that  problem  which  meets  him  at  every 
turn,  and  which  demands  a  solution  of  the  mystery 
of  existence.  I  do  not  mean  that  a  man's  creed  must 
all  be  settled,  but  he  must  stand  on  some  funda- 
mental truth  which  reveals  to  him  the  purpose  of  all 
our  struggles  and  labors.  A  man  without  a  religion 
that  solves  this  problem,  is  one  whose  mind  is  afloat, 
and  who  has  nothing  to  guide  him  through  the  world's 
commotions  and  revolutions.     He  has  no  true  success 


104  SUCCESS. 

until  he  is  grounded  on  those  everlasting  principles 
which  partake  not  of  the  vicissitudes  of  earthly 
things.  Until  this  be  done,  he  can  have  no  sense  of 
personal  security  and  no  unfailing  peace.  Indeed,  a 
man  has  never  become  successful  until  his  essential 
happiness  is  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  all  outward 
fluctuation  and  change.  This  can  never  be  done 
until  he  has  settled  with  himself  what  is  the  true 
end  of  life ;  until,  in  short,  he  has  embraced  a  religion 
on  whose  solid  foundations  he  feels  secure.  He  may 
be  ever  so  successful  in  the  competitions  of  business, 
and  life  still  remain  to  him  an  enigma  ;  and  mystery 
may  hang  like  a  dark  spirit  over  all  his  prospects. 
What  is  the  end  of  all  this  ?  why  are  all  these  strug- 
gles and  endeavors  ?  are  the  questions  which  must 
haunt  him  and  press  upon  him  in  thoughtful  hours. 
Faith,  —  faith  that  penetrates  the  future,  and  brings 
down  from  heaven  a  bright  and  blessed  philosophy 
which  flings  its  illuminations  over  the  present  scene, 
and  reveals  the  grand  object  of  all  existence,  —  is 
essential  to  true  success  and  victory.  It  need  not  be 
an  obtrusive  or  a  difficult  faith:  its  first  truths  may 
be  as  simple  as  the  lessons  of  a  child;  but  without 
it  there  is  deceitfulness  and  hollo wness  in  all  pros- 
perity, which  then  determines  to  no  sublime  ends*  and 
issues,  therefore  has  no  moral  unity. 

In  the  whole  history  of  the  world,  I  do  not  know 
of    any  period  over  which  there  broods   so   thick  a 


SUCCESS. 


darkness,  as  that  which  just  preceded  the  coming  of 
Christ,  when  the  old  religions  had  failed,  and  the 
new  religion  had  not  yet  dawned.  Men  of  thought 
groped  about,  and  wondered  what  they  lived  for.  If 
for  time  only,  why  these  yearnings  irrepressible,  and 
why  these  frightful  disorders  and  sufferings  ?  If 
there  is  a  God,  said  they,  beyond  that  sky  over  our 
heads,  why  does  He  not  make  a  rent  through  it,  and 
tell  us  for  what  He  made  us  ?  Well,  God  spake 
through  that  brazen  sky,  and  the  message  came  ;  and 
look  a  few  years  later,  and  you  see  those  commun- 
ions called  Christian  churches,  dotting  the  darkness  ; 
just  as  sometimes,  when  travelling  at  night,  you  come 
in  sight  of  a  town  that  looms  up  in  the  distance,  and 
flings  its  streamlets  of  light  from  a  thousand  win- 
dows into  the  darkness.  So  Christianity  came,  re- 
vealing a  sublime  purpose  in  human  existence,  and 
making  every  man  a  missionary  to  his  time,  for  heal- 
ing its  miseries,  and  rolling  the  darkness  away. 

3.  I  remark,  in  the  third  place,  and  lastly,  this  life 
has  its  completeness  when  it  has  prepared  us  for 
that  higher  and  better  life  whose  scenes  are  in  pros- 
pect. It  is  complete,  that  is,  when  a  man  has  become 
fit  to  render  it  up.  This  world,  in  connection  with  a 
higher  one,  is  a  school  of  discipline  which  has  certain 
lessons  to  be  learned,  and  certain  acquisitions  to  be 
made,  that  we  may  be  prepared  for  the  untasked 
industries  of  heaven.     In  this  vast  and  comprehen- 


106  SUCCESS. 

sive  economy  of  Divine  Providence,  how  beautiful 
and  orderly  would  seem  all  its  operations  could  we 
see  the  whole  !  —  one' sphere  rising  above  another,  far 
away  towards  the  central  light  and  glory,  each  in  the 
lower  sphere  preparing  for  the  one  which  is  next 
above  him,  while  the  Creator  sees  all  below  rising 
in  unbroken  gradations  toward  Himself.  Now,  there 
is  a  time  when  the  soul  here  on  earth  is  matured  for 
its  immortality  ;  and,  when  that  time  comes,  death  is. 
a  most  auspicious  event,  for  it  comes  with  the  angelic 
annunciation,  "  It  is  finished.  "  And  yet,  when  men 
talk  about  preparation  for  death,  how  liable  they  are 
to  fall  into  the  cant  of  sect,  or  into  dark  and  wilder- 
ing  superstitions !  Pious  words,  mysterious  rites, 
sacred  magic  of  some  kind,  are  substituted  for  that 
Christian  preparation  which  gives  to  life  a  Divine 
completeness. 

This  preparation  for  a  higher  life  which  makes  us 
fit  to  render  up  the  earthly  life,  and  which  makes  our 
probation  successful,  is  exceedingly  well  defined.  It 
is  described  as  "  overcoming  the  world,"  "obtaining 
the  victory."  In  other  words,  it  is  when,  in  that 
struggle  which  is  going  on  with  every  man,  between 
the  higher  and  the  lower  nature,  the  former  has  pre- 
vailed, and  its  principles  have  been  finally  estab- 
lished. It  is  not  moral  perfection,  it  is  not  vicarious 
righteousness,  nor  magical  faith.  It  is,  in  one  word, 
"  victory,"   "  overcoming."       Plainly,  overcoming  the 


SUCCESS.  107 

world  is  bringing  into  subjection  those  dispositions 
and  passions  which  the  world  excites,  and  to  which 
its  corruptions  make  their  appeal.  Instead  of  ruling, 
they  serve.  Instead  of  their  overcoming  us,  we  have 
overcome  them,  and  held  them  to  their  place.  It  is 
when  the  awful  power  of  moral  choice  has  been  put 
forth,  and  you  have  taken  for  your  rule  of  life  the 
Divine  Law,  and  not  the  irresponsible  and  selfish  will. 
How  anxiously  must  the  guardian  heavens  watch  in 
us  that  moment  of  decisive  choice,  when  it  comes 
down  clear,  decisive,  and  final,  and  there  is  no  longer 
any  trembling  of  the  balance !  If  you  have  never 
made  this  choice,  you  can  make  it  now,  this  morning, 
if  you  will,  with  all  consecrating  vows  and  prayers. 
And  then  there  is  joy  in  heaven  ;  and  if  ever  they 
ring  the  bells  there,  it  is  when  a  soul  is  thus  gained 
for  its  abodes.  Because  heaven  is  passing  into  our 
minds,  not  with  great  noise  and  commotion,  but  with 
broader,  clearer,  deeper  demonstrations  of  its  power 
and  influence,  and  opposing  principles  grow  feeble, 
and  their  murmurs  become  still.  Or  else  the  world  is 
encroaching  upon  our  whole  natures,  and  the  higher 
and  heavenly  is  suffering  eclipse  and  extinguishment 
under  the  encroaching  shade.  It  is  when  the  balance 
has  ceased  to  tremble,  and  to  render  the  issue  doubt- 
ful ;  when  God,  not  self,  has  become  supreme  and 
regnant  within,  —  that  man  is  said  to  overcome  the 
world.     And  this  is  victory ;  and  it  was  the  victory, 


108  SUCCESS. 

not  over  death,  but  over  sin,  which  called  out  that 
burst  of  gratitude  from  the  apostle,  "  Thanks  be  to 
God  that  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  And  you  see  this  does  not  depend 
upon  length  of  years.  You  who  have  become  old 
enough  to  make  a  clear  choice  between  Christ  and 
the  world,  that  is,  to  have  a  probation,  can  have  this 
victory  now,  this  very  day,  if  you  have  not  already 
obtained  it. 

The  business  of  life  well  chosen,  a  religious  faith 
that  inspires  it  and  keeps  it  to  unselfish  ends,  the 
world  overcome  and  under  our  feet,  these  three 
things  make  up  a  Christian  life  that  is  finished, — 
finished,  I  mean,  in  the  sense  that  life  is  a  heavenly 
success.  And  now  let  me  run  out  and  make  good 
another  comparison  between  the  life  of  the  Divine 
Master  and  the  life  of  all  his  followers.  It  is  one 
which  the  Christian  believer  cannot  meditate  without 
a  thrill  of  triumph  and  rejoicing.  We  have  seen 
how,  through  all  the  snares  of  his  enemies,  Jesus 
walked  secure  and  serene  until  he  could  say,  "  The 
hour  is  come."  Till  then  they  had  no  power  over 
Him.  There  was  no  special  Providence  in  his  case ; 
for  no  Providences  are  special.  Only  in  Him  as  the 
Divine  Humanity,  the  great  laws  of  Providence,  as 
they  apply  to  all  humanity,  blaze  forth  and  become 
manifest.  So  it  is  with  every  life  consecrated  to 
Him,  and  going  on  to  be  finished.     It  will  not,  can 


S UC CESS.  109 


not  stop  an  hour  too  soon  or  an  hour  too  late.  Of 
its  day  and  of  its  hour  no  man  knoweth.  But  do 
not  suppose  that  God  knoweth  not  its  hour,  nor  that 
that  thing  of  Divine  workmanship — a  Christian  life  — 
better  than  all  the  finishings  of  human  art,  will  fail 
for  want  of  time.  Concealed  in  the  Divine  protec- 
tion, it  flows  on  till  its  end  is  gained  ;  for  God  never 
leaves  his  work  half  done.  Choose  your  work  with 
vows  of  consecration,  do  it  in  the  light  of  a  clear 
faith,  and  your  hour  comes  not  till  God,  if  not  man, 
can  write  over  your  grave,  "  It  is  finished."  Fin- 
ished, it  may  be,  like  the  Master's,  in  the  midst  of 
manly  vigor  and  bloom;  finished,  nevertheless,  as  that 
Divine  workmanship  which  God  has  moulded  consum- 
mately for  the  skies.  And  this  it  is  which  gives  to 
the  Christian  that  sense  of  Divine  shelter  in  storms 
and  in  calms  which  enables  him  to  tread  with  even 
pace  along  all  the  pathways  of  this  world. 

John  Wesley,  six  days  before  his  death,  wrote  a 
letter  to  Wilberforce,  the  last  words  of  his  pen.  "  I 
know,"  he  says,  in  substance,  to  the  philanthropist, 
"  that  you  must  have  been  raised  up  for  your  work 
and  protected  in  it  by  God,  else  you  would  long 
ago  have  been  overcome  by  the  men  and  devils  who 
oppose  you."  It  was  the  same  Providence  that  guards 
the  lives  of  its  own,  until  their  lives  are  all  complete. 
I  do  believe  that  many  a  life  has  come  to  its  end  here 
sooner  than  it  should,  because  it  had  no   moral  pur- 


no  SUCCESS. 


pose ;  because  there  was  help  needed,  and  work  to  do, 
which  ought  to  have  drawn  out  and  absorbed  the 
energies  which  otherwise  flowed  inward  to  breed 
morbid  conditions  and  death  to  the  body  and  the 
soul.  And  so  the  Lord  sponged  it  out  of  the  world 
as  of  no  use  in  the  world.  And  many  others  have 
been  kept  here  solely  by  means  of  a  moral  purpose. 
The  vow  had  been  made,  "  I  see  a  good  here  I  want 
to  work  out,  and  feel  called  to  do  ; "  and  the  Lord 
answered,  "  Take  your  time  for  it.  Go  and  do  it, 
and  then  come  up  higher." 

My  hearers,  are  you  living  for  any  thing  ?  Have 
you  begun  life  with  any  moral  object  and  end  ?  Have 
you  that  faith  which  will  give  you  guidance,  and  be  a 
light  to  go  before  you  as  a  pillar  of  flame  ?  Or,  are 
you  living  without  any  faith,  without  any  religion, 
following  your  calling  mechanically,  only  that  you 
may  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  ?  Without  some  faith  to 
give  me  a  theory  of  life,  as  well  as  its  hard  and  dusty 
realities,  I  should  feel,  as  it  seems  to  me,  for  every 
grave  I  saw  opened,  for  every  pang  that  is  felt,  for 
every  family  that  passes  away,  as  if  I  were  placed  in 
a  world  where  all  is  disorder  and  illusion,  — 

"  To  know  delight  but  by  her  parting  smile, 
To  toil,  and  wish,  and  weep,  a  little  while." 

Do  not    deem    life    successful    till    the   promise  is 


SUCCESS.  ill 


fairly  yours,  "  He  that  overcometh,  the  same  shall 
be  clothed  in  white  raiment ;  and  I  will  not  blot  out 
his  name  out  of  the  book  of  life,  but  I  will  confess 
his  name  before  my  Father,  and  before  his  angels." 


THE    THREE    ADVENTS. 


;  hour 

5 

THE  :  se  of    01       :     iour  which  com:: 

rth  and  twenty-fifth  chapters  of 
:he    longest    that   we    have 
reported,  and  most  remarkable  for  its  solemn  gran- 
deur.     To    :  meaning,    we   must 
stand  with   the   Saviour  on   the    summit   of    Mount 
Olivet,  ji               ?i  the  city,  overlooking  its  buildings 
and  its  busy  population.               eventide.     The  most 
-picuous  object  is  the  temple  on  Mount  Moriah. 
gilded  roof  and  white  marble  columns  would  be 
furbished  in  the  ravs  of  the  setting  sun.     "  Ye  ad- 
mire all  these  things,"  said  Jesus;  "but  I  say  unto 
the  building  shall  be  razed  to  its  foundations." 
The  disciples  are  eager  to  know  when  this  shall  be. 
It  shall  be  at  the  second  coming  of  the  Son  of    man  ; 
and  I                                  :  >  be  the  signs  of  that  com- 
ing.    Then  begins  the  discourse  which  ends  with  the 
twenty-fifth    chadter.      Jesus  rises   into   the  highest 
realm    of   prophetic  vision,  and    paints   with    divine 


THE    THREE  ADV  113 

pencil  the  events  which  foretoken  his  coming,  that 
coming  itself  consummation.     The  commen- 

tators, in  attempting  to  analyze  this  high  utterance, 
find    themselves    baffled  and   confused.      One 
confines  the  whole  prophecy  to  temporal  even:-  — 
the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  dispersion  of 
the  Jews.      Another  view  goes  far:?.  :ond 

in  the  world. 
:her  goes  farthe  r^ond  comir 

ind  up  human  affairs.     It  is  a  coming  to 
ment,   and   to    determine   the   destiny  of  the   race. 
:d  apply  it   exc  and  you 

will  see  how  it  halts  and  fails.     Neither  one  ss 

Put  them 
all  together  than  that.     Rer 

ber,  that  from  our  Saviour's  point  of  view,  rapt 
the  vast  future,  time  ceases  to  be.      Scenes  of  this 
world  and  of  the  other  rise  in  the  :.  —  one 

in  the  foreground  ;  the  other,  dissolving  views  of  the 

e.     Scenes  of   time   and   eterni: 
one  into  the  as  all  to  Him  was  a  pr- 

not  ma  :ransitio  :lates 

Ther  it  idea 

It  is  the  comir. 
of  man.     It  is  the  I  :t  in  C 

leed,  is  the  one  _ 
:    the    1 


ii|  THE    THREE  ADVENTS. 

Indeed,  it  is  the  one  truth  which  unitizes  all  the  his- 
tory of  the  world.  And  what  is  meant  by  the  com- 
ing of  the  Son  of  man  ?  Simply  God  imparting 
Himself  to  humanity.  Simply  the  Divine  Mind  yield- 
ing itself  to  the  human  mind,  in  order  to  cleanse  the 
human,  inspire  it,  and  lift  it  up  into  the  Divine  Em- 
brace. But  in  the  accomplishment  of  this  Divine 
plan  there  are  degrees  and  stages  through  which  it 
moves  on  to  its  fulfilment. 

The  coming  of  Christ  is  threefold. 

His  coming  in  the  flesh. 

His  coming  in  the  soul. 

His  coming  in  the  judgment,  according  as  He  is 
received  or  rejected. 

His  coming  in  the  flesh,  we  say,  for  it  was  neces- 
sary that  the  Divine  Word,  as  the  embodiment  of  the 
Divine  Nature  itself,  should  be  made  flesh,  and 
appear  before  the  eyes  of  men,  that  they  might  see 
it  living,  acting,  moving  in  a  human  form,  and  going 
forth  into  a  perfect  human  practice.  It  was  neces- 
sary, I  say,  in  order  to  any  adequate  disclosure  of  the 
Divine  Nature  to  men.  And  why  ?  Because  words 
alone  cannot  reveal  God.  They  may  tell  us  about 
God,  and  about  his  power  and  majesty,  but  his  intrin- 
sic nature  they  cannot  disclose.  We  call  God  our 
Father,  but  that  word  reveals  no  Divine  Fatherhood, 
unless  our  human  relations  have  been  purged  of  self, 
and  thrill  with  the  Divine  Love.     Till  then  those  rela- 


THE    THREE   ADVENTS.  115 

tions  are  shaped  oily  by  the  instinct  of  the  natural 
man.  The  Jews  called  Him  Father,  but  that  described 
Him  only  after  their  notions  of  fatherhood ;  and  they 
were  a  people  who  punished  their  own  children  with 
death,  and  who  killed  their  prisoners  of  war,  even 
the  women  and  the  little  ones.  What  does  father- 
hood signify  among  a  people  whose  human  relations 
all  have  the  taint  of  selfishness  ?  They  called  Him 
merciful ;  but  what  does  mercy  mean  among  people 
whose  mercies  are  cruel  ?  They  called  Him  good ; 
that  meant  kind  to  family  and  friends,  and  to 
nobody  beyond.  They  called  Him  just;  their  justice 
required  eye  for  eye,  and  tooth  for  tooth,  and  per- 
sonal retaliation,  which  had  in  it  the  deadly  taint  of 
hatred  and  revenge.  Words  alone  cannot  reveal 
God,  simply  because  all  human  speech  has  its  roots 
in  human  experiences  and  passions,  and  therefore  has 
the  taint  of  our  human  imperfection  and  depravity. 
The  missionary  goes  among  savage  nations.  He 
tries  to  translate  the  Divine  Law  into  the  savage  dia- 
lects, and  finds  they  have  not  scope  of  meaning 
enough  to  take  it  in.  The  Christian  ideas  of  forgive- 
ness, love,  mercy,  compassion,  have  no  equivalent 
where  there  has  been  no  corresponding  experience  ; 
and  so  they  float  in  the  air  without  any  roots  to  be 
engrafted  on,  and  to  give  them  a  resting  place.  Pile 
up  the  words  as  you  may,  and  string  out  the  adjec- 
tives to  any  length  you  please,  in  descriptions  of  the 


n6  THE    THREE  ADVEXTS. 

Divine  attributes,  you  cannot  make  them  redolent  of 
the  Divine  charms  and  glories,  because  the  words 
can  reach  no  height  above  the  human  nature  in 
which  they  have  their  root,  and  out  of  which  they 
draw  up  all  their  meaning  and  inspiration.  There- 
fore, language  alone,  gathered  from  all  the  dialects  of 
the  earth,  could  not  yield  to  human  thought  the 
immaculate  conception  of  the  Godhead. 

No.  Nor  could  any  angel  from  heaven  do  it.  An 
angel  might  have  descended,  and  proclaimed  the 
gospel  from  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  and  the  beau- 
tiful vision  would  have  floated  in  air ;  but  how 
could  it  get  down  to  the  earth  as  a  fixed  and  historic 
reality  ?  What  language  could  the  angel  have  spoken, 
that  the  earth  would  understand  ?  What  words  in 
which  to  translate  his  ideas,  and  give  them  complete 
body  and  clothing,  could  he  have  found  in  our  dialects 
down  here  in  the  flesh  and  in  the  dark  ?  His  gospel 
message  would  have  floated  over  us  as  a  strain  of 
music,  and  then  died  away ;  hovering  above  the  earth 
like  a  song,  but  having  no  such  articulation  and  form 
as  to  give  it  an  abiding-place  among  our  gross  and 
palpable  realities.  Words  again,  angelic  words  ;  but 
words  untranslatable  into  our  human  speech,  because 
they  have  no  roots  in  our  human  experience  and 
history.  Indeed,  angels  did  come  in  this  way,  all 
alons:  the  aa;es,  and  through  all  the  Old  Testament 
history,    giving   men  dreams    of   a  better  state,  and 


THE    THREE  ADVENTS.  117 

prophecies  of  a  more  glorious  future.  And  the 
dreams  and  the  prophecies  sank  down  straightway 
into  carnal  conceptions  of  a  temporal  Messiah. 
Never  were  these  conceptions  dissipated,  and  our 
human  thought  lifted  up  to  the  Divine  Idea,  until,  at 
last,  the  angel  song  floated  over  Bethlehem,  and  the 
star  stood  still  over  the  heavenly  babe  lying  in  a 
manger.  And  then  the  Word  was  indeed  made  flesh. 
Not  a  humanity  corrupt  and  sinful,  and  which  had 
tainted  the  very  language  of  human  intercourse,  but 
a  humanity  without  any  spot  on  its  disk,  became  the 
resplendent  image  of  the  Divinity.  The  Divine  Word 
was  made  flesh.  He  not  only  spake,  but  He  assumed 
human  relations,  wants,  sufferings,  temptations,  affec- 
tions, and  joys ;  wrapped  the  garment  of  our  infancy 
about  Him,  as  well  as  that  of  our  childhood  and 
manhood  ;  put  on  our  mortality,  and  put  it  off  again, 
in  order  to  show  death  as  the  inverse  side  of  resur- 
rection and  eternal  life.  All  those  goodly  words 
whereby  we  describe  the  Divine  attributes,  —  justice, 
mercy,  forgiveness,  and  love,  —  He  has  filled  out  with 
new  meaning,  lifting  up  our  low  and  sensuous  vocabu- 
laries into  the  Divine  Light,  and  breathing  the  Divine 
Life  into  them.  They  have  the  taint  of  our  selfish- 
ness taken  clean  out  of  them  ;  and  humanity,  in  Christ 
made  perfect  and  Divine,  becomes  the  complete  rep- 
resentation and  transparency  of  the  Godhead.  And 
so  the  historic   Christ,  standing:  in  the  midst  of  the 


THE    THREE  ADVENTS. 


ages,  is  a  twofold  revelation.  He  is  the  revelation 
alike  of  perfect  Divinity  and  perfect  humanity  ;  for 
one  is  the  image  of  the  other,  copied  down  to  us  out 
of  heaven.  He  shows  us  the  God  we  ought  to  wor- 
ship, and  brings  Him  nigh,  in  order  that  his  attributes, 
though  in  finite  degree,  may  be  formed  in  us,  and  we 
be  made  partakers  of  the  Divine  Nature,  and  the 
image  of  the  Divine  Perfections, 

No  religion,  before  the  advent  of  Christ,  ever  pro- 
duced a  purer  code  of  morals  than  did  the  religion  of 
Buddha.  None  ever  conceived  more  truly  the  moral 
attributes  of  a  perfected  human  nature.  But  it  had 
no  power,  nor  has  it  any  to  this  day,  to  give  those 
attributes  any  such  incarnation  on  the  earth,  or  to  put 
human  nature  in  such  correspondency  with  the  Divine, 
as  to  give  the  worshipper  an  adequate  conception  of 
the  Godhead,  or  to  bring  down  the  Divine  energies 
into  man,  as  the  working  force  of  human  progress, 
aggressive  and  triumphant  over  evil  and  sin.  The 
highest  state  it  can  produce  is  a  delicious  quietism. 
It  is  a  narcotic  to  dull  the  sense  of  pain,  not  a 
cleanser,  a  stimulant,  an  inspirer,  and  a  call  to 
victory ;  because,  in  the  place  where  God  should  be, 
it  left  a  blank  spot  in  the  heavens.  It  was  a  waiting, 
a  listening,  a  prophecy,  towards  the  fulness  of  time, 
when,  through  this  painful  void,  the  tidings  should 
come  down,  and  the  Christ  should  appear  as  the 
manifestation  of  the  Divine  Personality. 


THE    THREE  ADVENTS.  119 

But  the  historic  Christ  is  not  enough.  Models  of 
perfection,  human  or  divine,  are  not  enough.  The 
Christ  of  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  must  be  also 
the  Christ  of  to-day,  if  He  would  be  to  us  a  living 
Saviour  and  Redeemer.  Patterns  of  perfection  away 
back  in  the  centuries,  however  lofty  and  resplendent, 
what  are  they  to  me  so  long  as  I  cannot  lift  myself 
up  to  them  out  of  my  own  weakness  and  sin  ?  The 
historic  Christ  were  not  enough ;  therefore  Jesus 
speaks  constantly  of  a  second  coming,  more  inward 
and  spiritual.  "  I  go  away,  that  I  may  come  again." 
"  I  will  come  again  unto  you."  "The  Holy  Spirit 
was  not  yet,  because  the  Son  of  man  was  not  glori- 
fied." "  If  I  go  not  away,  the  Comforter  will  not 
come;  but  if  I  depart,  I  will  send  him."  In  other 
words,  "  I  go  away  to  be  nearer  to  my  disciples  on  the 
spiritual  side,  and  to  be  to  them  a  Mediator,  through 
whom  the  Holy  Spirit  yields  itself  to  human  nature, 
to  cleanse  it,  and  renew  it,  and  shape  it  in  the  Divine 
Image."  Christ  merely  as  an  example  would  only 
hold  out  to  us  patterns  of  perfection  to  dazzle  and 
mock  us.  To  follow  Him  only  as  a  model  man, 
would  make  us  the  mere  mimics  of  his  virtues  ;  yea, 
it  were  a  fantastic  endeavor  to  put  on  a  righteousness 
that  never  would  fit  to  us,  and  which  we  never  could 
wear ;  for  who  is  the  man  that  can  do  the  things  that 
He  did,  and  who  can  use  his  speech?  Inspiration, 
not  imitation,  is  our  prime  need,  as  the  disciples  of 


THE    THREE  ADVENTS. 


the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  need  of  his  church 
as  an  organism  fitted  to  receive  Him,  and  to  embody 
his  power  and  spirit  on  the  earth.  Our  prime  need 
is  a  new  influx  of  power,  not  from  Christ  crucified, 
but  from  the  Christ  risen  and  glorified,  and  inspiring 
his  church  to-day.  His  first  coming  was  to  put  men 
in  right  relations  to  each  other,  to  install  a  society 
and  brotherhood  purged  of  the  old  corrupt  selfish- 
ness, consecrated  to  God  and  humanity  ;  in  fine,  a 
church  into  which  He  could  come,  and  which  He 
could  fill  with  Himself.  That  clone,  the  Holy  Spirit 
could  descend,  and  sweep  the  human  heart  like  a 
lyre.  For  man  must  be  in  right  relations  with  his 
brother,  before  he  can- be  in  such  relations  with  God 
as  to  commune  with  Him,  and  receive  his  spirit. 
There  must  be  a  true  brotherhood  and  fellowship,  or 
there  can  be  to  us  no  Divine  Fatherhood  and  com- 
munion, out  of  which  the  Holy  Spirit  can  descend 
to  mould  us  anew  in  the  Divine  Image.  And  just 
in  the  degree  that  the  Christian  church  has  been 
such  a  brotherhood  and  fellowship,  has  the  promise 
of  Jesus  been  fulfilled,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway  ;  " 
and  the  Christian  communion  and  confession  have 
been  impleted  with  the  power,  the  comfort,  and  the 
fire,  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  discipleship  which  is  a 
whole  consecration  to  Christ  as  a  Mediator  and 
Saviour,  present  in  his  church  to-day,  melting  through 
all  its  rituals,  and  melting  the  ice  out  of  its  fellow- 


THE    THREE   ADVENTS. 


ship,  is  never  without  the  Comforter.  And  then 
He  clothes  us,  not  with  any  imputed  righteousness 
put  on  from  without,  but  with  a  real,  intrinsic  right- 
eousness inspired  from  within ;  and  then  obedience 
is  a  delight,  and  duty  is  a  song  of  praise. 

I  trust  I  am  speaking  to  the  experience  of  some  of 
you  with  whom  the  Christ  of  history  is  the  Christ  of 
consciousness ;  that  the  power  of  his  resurrection  is 
the  power  of  a  Saviour  close  at  hand,  melting  the 
heart  into  contrition  and  tenderness,  hanging  the 
bow  of  peace  on  every  cloud  of  sorrow,  making  your 
communion-table  seem  like  the  gate  of  heaven,  be- 
cause Christ  and  the  Comforter  are  there.  I  believe 
I  am  reciting  the  experience  of  eighteen  centuries, 
when  I  say  that  forms  of  religion  with  the  Christ 
taken  out  of  them  have  the  Comforter  taken  out  of 
them  also  ;  and  then  the  words  which  describe  the 
Divine  attributes  of  Fatherhood  become  emptied  of 
their  meaning,  and  shade  off  into  the  unknowable 
forces  of  the  universe,  and  float  over  us  in  the  wintry 
air;  and  then  prayer  becomes  a  form,  for  it  takes 
hold  of  nothing ;  whereas,  with  the  Christ  of  to-day 
as  a  Real  Presence,  the  Father  is  brought  wondrous 
nigh  in  personal  communion,  the  Divine  Heart  melts 
into  our  hearts  till  the  Divine  Love  overflows  ;  and 
the  angel  song  of  peace  and  good-will  is  the  pro- 
longed strain  of  the  centuries,  singing  itself  not  in 
the  upper  sky,   but  in   the    music   of   the   soul,   and 


THE    THREE  ADVENTS. 


making  communion  with  God  in  Christ  a  prayer 
without  ceasing. 

Such  are  his  coming  in  the  flesh,  and  his  coming 
in  the  soul,  or  the  Christ  of  history,  and  the  Christ 
of  consciousness. 

But  there  is  described  a  last  stage  of  the  advent  of 
God  in  Christ,  the  consummation  of  the  two  others. 
Jesus  in  this  high  utterance  sees  the  current  of  our 
human  life  sweeping  on  beyond  the  brink  of  mortal- 
ity, into  the  gathering-place  of  all  nations  and  peoples, 
—  the  spirit-world,  where  the  generations  pass  in 
continuous  processions  to  the  endless  abodes.  And 
there  He  describes  yet  another  coming  of  the  Son  of 
man.  It  is  the  Divine  Word  that  comes  to  judgment, 
the  Eternal  Truth  that  discerns  the  souls  of  men, 
and  resolves  them  into  their  class  and  order  and 
place ;  not  by  some  technical  standard,  but  according 
as  they  have  been  true  to  the  claims  of  brotherhood 
and  humanity.  "  As  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  "  I  go 
to  prepare  a  place  for  you,"  and,  "  I  will  come  again, 
and  receive  you  unto  myself  ;  that  where  I  am,  there 
ye  may  be  also." 

The  only  home  of  the  Christian  disciple  is  where 
the  love  of  Christ  reigns  in  its  fulness.  Hence,  when 
this  cumbering  load  of  mortality  falls  away  from  the 
disciple,  the  immortal  life  will  be  to  him  a  still  nearer 
and  more  complete  advent  of  his   Lord.     The   same 


THE    THREE   ADVENTS.  123 

voice  which  called  him  here  to  self-consecration,  is 
then,  "  Come,  ye  blessed,  inherit  the  kingdom."  It 
is  not  the  Christ  sitting  on  an  outward  throne,  and 
judging  by  arbitrary  law,  but  the  same  Word  that 
was  made  flesh,  and  which  had  been  the  law  of  the 
Christian  life,  and  the  Christ  of  experience,  now 
calling  by  inward  attractions  to  that  immortal  fellow- 
ship whose  peoples  no  man  can  number.  And  this 
is  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  that  discerns  the 
Christ-like,  and  raises  them  up  at  the  last  day.  And 
these  are  the  three  advents  through  which  God  yields 
Himself  to  our  humanity,  and  purges  it,  and  fills  it 
with  Himself. 

And  as  the  "  Come,  ye  blessed,"  simply  formulates 
the  law  of  inward  attraction  that  draws  heart  to  heart, 
and  mind  to  mind,  when  all  the  hinderances  of  earth 
have  fallen  away,  so  the  "  Go,  ye  cursed,"  formulates 
the  law  of  repulsion  with  those  in  whom  there  is  no 
love  of  Christ,  nor  love  of  his  work,  but,  in  place 
thereof,  the  selfishness  by  which  men  are  shut  fast  in 
their  own  prison-house,  and  preyed  upon  by  its  tor- 
menting fires.  There  is  no  arbitrary  law  here. 
Christ  received  is  heaven  commencing  now,  and  con- 
summating in  that  state  where  his  love  reigns  su- 
preme. Christ  rejected  is  the  rejection  of  the  means 
of  renewal  and  peace,  of  all  that  makes  the  heavenly 
communion  and  the  heavenly  employments  sweet  and 
attractive.     The   third  advent  of  the   Eternal  Word 


124  THE    THREE  ADVENTS. 

reveals  every  man  as  he  is  ;  and,  under  its  resolving 
power,  every  man  determines  to  his  own  place. 

Such,  then,  is  the  Divine  coming  in  Christ.  How 
gradually  has  He  melted  through  the  ages,  and  into 
the  heart  of  the  world !  How  slowly  has  his  own 
church  understood  Him,  and  received  his  mind  into 
hers  !  And  yet  "  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  man  in 
heaven  "  was  never  more  plain  than  at  the  present 
hour.  Never  were  more  auspicious  the  omens  of  a 
new  gathering  of  sects  and  denominations  around  his 
Divine  Personality ;  and  here  is  the  central  force 
which  is  to  re-organize  and  guide  the  distracted  and 
groping  nations.  In  both  hemispheres,  the  East  and 
the  West,  the  old  oppressions  are  dying,  the  crushing 
burdens  are  being  lifted  off,  the  shackles  of  the  slave 
are  melting,  the  priestly  thrones  are  shaking,  the 
hymns  of  freedom  are  ascending,  and  Christ,  in  his 
humble  poor,  and  in  his  despised  ones,  is  claiming  re- 
demption. The  real  progress  of  Christianity  is  to  be 
measured,  not  so  much  by  its  spread  outward,  as  by 
its  descent  downward  ;  not  through  miles  of  space, 
but  downward  from  great  things  to  less  things,  from 
the  heights  of  the  world  to  its  plains  and  valleys, 
from  Sundays  to  week  days,  from  the  lord  to  the 
serf;  yea,  from  man  down  to  the  ranks  below  him,  till 
beast  and  bird  shall  rejoice  in  its  protection.  From 
every  burden  made  light,  from  every  soul  redeemed 
from  sin  and  suffering,  from  any  suffering  creature 


THE    THREE  ADVENTS.  125 

whose  pangs  you  have  softened  or  assuaged,  comes 
the  Saviour's  benediction,  "  Ye  have  done  it  unto 
me." 

Out  of  every  human  form,  and  out  of  every  sentient 
being,  from  whose  suffering  we  turn  away  when  the 
opportunity  is  offered,  comes  the  same  voice,  "  Ye  did 
it  not  to  me."  As  the  Kingdom  of  Christ  comes  in 
this  world,  He  calls  us  to  work  in  it  and  for  it ;  and 
our  acceptance  or  rejection  at  last  are  conditioned, 
not  so  much  on  what  we  believe  about  Him,  as  on 
our  working  with  Him  in  full  consecration  of  our- 
selves. For  the  "  Come,  ye  blessed,"  and  "  Go,  ye 
cursed,"  enounce  the  conditions  of  heaven  or  hell. 
What  is  heaven  but  a  grandly  organized  beneficence 
and  charity,  from  which  angels  come  and  go  on 
errands  of  love  and  redemption  ?  And  what  is  hell 
but  that  state  where  souls  are  dungeoned  up  in  them- 
selves, because  they  never  saw  God  in  his  little 
ones  ? 

So,  let  us  gather  home,  to-day,  and  apply  to  our- 
selves, the  lesson  of  this  practical  Christianity  of  the 
sermon  on  Mount  Olivet.  "  Consecrated "  is  the 
word  which  the  Master  writes  on  every  faculty  of 
mind  and  body.  Consecrated  to  Divine  ends,  to 
unselfish  living,  to  the  filling-up  of  golden  opportu- 
nities for  lifting  the  heavy  burdens,  and  for  diffusing 
the  love  of  Christ  through  the  ties  of  brotherhood 
that  are  woven  all  about  us,  and  for  making  his  image 


126  THE    THREE  ADVENTS. 


shine  brighter  in  some  soul  where  it  was  marred  and 
broken.  For  such  is  the  condition  of  the  benediction, 
"  Come  ye  blessed ;  as  ye  have  done  it-  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 


PROGRESS. 


Philippians  III.  12:  "Not  as  though  I  had  already  attained,  either  were 
already  perfect ;  but  I  follow  after,  if  that  I  may  apprehend  that  for  which  also 
I  am  apprehended  of  Christ  Jesus." 

PERHAPS  a  clearer  rendering  would  be:  "Not 
that  I  have  already  won,  or  am  already  perfect ; 
but  I  press  on,  if  indeed  I  might  lay  hold  on  that  for 
which  Christ  laid  hold  on  me." 

I  understand  Paul  in  this  passage  to  announce  the 
fundamental  principle  of  what  we  call  Liberal  Chris- 
tianity. It  is  a  religion  of  progress,  and  allows  no 
living  believer  to  be  satisfied  with  present  attain- 
ments. It  supposes  that  Christianity  has  dawned 
upon  us  as  a  system  so  vast  and  comprehending,  that 
we  refuse  to  fix  it  in  stationary  creeds.  When  we 
have  gained  one  height  which  we  thought  was  to  be 
the  summit,  it  only  shows  us  other  and  sublimer 
heights  beyond,  which  before  had  not  come  into  our 
field  of  view.  For  to  explain  the  mysteries  of  religion 
does  not  diminish  their  number.  To  throw  light  on 
one  subject  is  to  bring  into  contemplation  others, 
which  never  before  had  been  the  object  of  thought  ; 


128  PROGRESS. 


even  as  when  the  clay  is  chasing  back  the  twilight, 
the  twilight  is  making  the  same  encroachment  on  the 
realm  of  total  darkness. 

There  are,  however,  two  theories  about  progress. 
One  leaves  Christ  behind,  and  finally  gets  Him  clear 
out  of  the  way.  The  other  keeps  Him  on  before,  a 
pillar  of  flame  that  burns  brighter  and  brighter.  Let 
me  characterize  both  these  methods,  and  so  come  to 
the  heart  of  our  subject,  —  Christianity  as  a  liberal  or 
ever  progressive  faith. 

A  man  opens  the  New  Testament,  and  finds  there 
a  remarkable  series  of  events  and  characters,  called 
miracles.  He  never  has  seen  any  thing  like  them, 
and  he  cannot  believe  any  thing  which  has  not  been 
compassed  by  his  own  experience.  His  first  object, 
then,  will  be  to  bring  Christ  within  our  human 
dimensions,  and  to  disengage  and  separate  the  super- 
natural from  the  natural ;  casting  out  the  former,  and 
retaining  the  latter.  But  what  are  the  supposed 
facts  thus  to  be  disengaged  and  thrown  away  ?  They 
pertain  to  the  conception,  the  birth,  the  ministry,  the 
works,  the  death,  the  resurrection,  the  ascension,  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  his  second  coming  in  the  Paraclete, 
or  Holy  Spirit.  After  these  are  taken  out,  what 
have  we  left  ?  The  discourses.  Well,  what  are  the 
discourses  ?  Nearly  all  of  them  grow  out  of  these 
events,  are  presupposed  by  them,  and  are  founded 
upon  them.     For  example  :   all   our  Saviour's  predic- 


PROGRESS.  129 

tions  of  his  death,  resurrection,  and  second  coming 
at  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  ;  and  all  that  discourse  about 
the  Comforter  He  was  to  send,  running  through  the 
Gospels  and  interlacing  them  ;  and  even  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount  was  preached  to  the  multitude  which 
thronged  Him  on  account  of  his  miraculous  works. 
What  is  there  left  ?  Nothing.  The  Christ  has 
vanished  from  the  theatre  of  common  history  into  the 
clouds,  and  beyond  them,  and  is  out  of  the  way  alto- 
gether. Some  are  frank  enough  to  acknowledge  this 
as  the  final  result,  and  accept  it.  This  new  theism 
says,  in  its  last  authoritative  utterance,  "  It  is  time 
to  let  Jesus  rest.  His  fame  has  become  a  grievance 
the  free  spirit  avoids.  It  closes  in  the  heavens,  and 
cuts  off  communication.  It  no  longer  mediates,  but 
separates.  Jesus  is  made  a  stumbling-block  to  the 
generation.  As  such  he  impedes  progress,  and  must 
be  removed.  Let  the  people  to-day  speak  of  them- 
selves in  their  own  name,  in  their  own  spirit."  Well, 
Christ  being  put  out  of  the  way,  what  do  these 
people  tell  us  about  God,  about  the  soul,  about  immor- 
tality ?  t  They  go  on,  and  use  the  phraseology  of 
religion,  the  Holy  Spirit,  immortality,  eternal  life. 
By  and  by  you  find  that  the  former  meaning  of  these 
words  has  all  leaked  out  of  them  ;  and  they  hang 
empty,  and  float  in  air.  The  Holy  Spirit  means, 
not  an  influence  and  energy  which  comes  from  above 
man,  and  from  a  personal  Deity,  but  the  moral  and 


130  PROGRESS. 


religious     sentiment,     self-excited    and    warmed    up 
within.     Immortality  means,  not  a  personal  existence 
beyond  the  grave,   but  living   in  the  affections  and 
memories  of  those  who   survive  us.     "  Many  winter 
storms,"    says    one    of    these    apostles    of    the    new 
religion,  "  have  swept  over  the  grave  of  Hegel  and 
Goethe  ;  but  does  not  their  spirit  still  live  among  us  ? 
It  is   as   Christ  said,  '  Where  two   or  three  are  met 
together,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.'     Thus, 
each  continues  to  live  according  to  his  works."     Per- 
sonally we  die,  and  our  consciousness  goes  out ;  our 
qualities  survive,  to  be  reproduced  in  the  everlasting 
tides  of  the  infinite;  and  this  is  immortality  sublimed 
by  philosophy.     This  result  is  not  reached  all  at  once  ; 
but,  outside  of  the  aid  of  Christian  ideas  and  personal- 
ities,  men  gravitate   towards   these  results  as  surely 
as  water  to  its  level.     Try  the  experiment.     Blot  out 
the  Christ,  and  reconstruct  a  supernaturalism  out  of 
your  own  mind.     Probably  it  will  compare  with  the 
immortal  realities  as  the  web  which  the  spider  weaves 
out  of  her  own  bowels,  till  she  clouds  herself  all  over 
with  it,   compares  with    the    great   world  outside  of 
earth  and   sky,  surrounded  by  which  her  little  gos- 
samer swings  for  an  hour.     It  is  a  very  significant 
fact,  that  in   Germany,  long  after  the  idea  of  a  per- 
sonal Christ,  a  personal  Deity,  and  a  personal  immor- 
tality had  been  abandoned    by  men    who   professed 
and  even  preached  Christianity  from  orthodox  pulpits, 


PROGRESS.  131 


the  old  phraseologies  and  rituals  and  names  kept  on 
just  the  same.  It  was  some  time  before  it  was  dis- 
covered, on  nearer  approach  and  examination,  that 
the  citadel  was  deserted,  that  the  ordnance  was  all 
wooden,  though  painted  in  exact  imitation  of  the  old 
guns  that  had  been  taken  down  ;  and  that,  when  you 
entered  through  the  gates,  you  found  the  city  evacu- 
ated, all  its  armies  and  peoples  gone,  all  its  stores 
of  provision  removed,  its  streets  as  silent  as  a  grave- 
yard, your  voice  echoing  back  from  deserted  habita- 
tions, and  your  footfall  ringing  hollow  among  the 
tombs.  Such  is  the  Christianity  without  any  Christ 
in  it,  and  such  the  kind  of  progress  which  it  gives  us. 
A  writer  gives  us  a  good  illustration  of  this  kind 
of  progress.  The  captain  of  a  coasting-vessel  had 
become  weary,  and,  putting  the  helm  into  the  hand  of 
a  negro  servant,  retired  to  his  hammock.  But,  before 
he  retired,  he  pointed  to  the  North  Star,  and  charged 
the  new  helmsman  always  to  keep  that  in  his  eye, 
and  steer  towards  it,  and  all  would  be  well.  But,  in 
the  course  of  the  night,  the  storm  came,  and  the 
winds  blew,  and  the  new  helmsman  found  himself  in 
a  general  confusion  of  sails  flapping,  and  ship  whirling 
and  reeling  and  plunging  at  random.  However,  he 
came  safe  out  of  the  storm,  as  he  thought  ;  and,  look- 
ing up  for  his  guiding  star,  found  it  away  behind  him, 
and  he  was  sailing  swiftly  away  from  it.  Congratu- 
lating himself  for  his  rapid   sailing,  he  went  below, 


132  PROGRESS. 


and  woke  his  master.  "  I  have  sailed  past  the  North 
Star.  Please  give  me  another  star  to  steer  by."  The 
captain  came  upon  deck,  and  looked  round.  "  Sailed 
by  the  North  Star!  Don't  you  see  that  you  have 
turned  right  about,  and  are  sailing  back  where  you 
started  from,  and  are  bound  for  nowhere  ? "  This  is 
the  progress  of  men  who  have  sailed  by  the  Star  of 
our  immortal  hopes  and  faith  and  progress,  to  those 
realms  of  emptiness  where  they  ray  out  their  own 
darkness,  and  hear  no  voices  but  the  hollow  echoes 
of  themselves. 

"  No  sail  ahead, 
No  look-out's  saving  song  ; 
Death  and  the  dark  across  their  bows, 
And  all  their  reckoning  gone." 

Look  now  one  moment  at  the  other  kind  of 
progress,  —  progress  within  Christianity,  and  with 
Christ  as  the  Divine  centre  of  human  faith  and  hope 
and  love. 

A  Divine  work  differs  from  a  human  in  nothing 
more  than  in  this:  that,  while  our  human  contrivances 
appear  fair  on  the  surface,  they  are  all  surface,  and 
we  soon  leave  them  out,  and  have  clone  with  them  ; 
whereas  a  Divine  work  opens  and  opens  forever, 
through  endless  perspectives  of  beauty.  Kepler,  who 
discovered  so  much  that  he  was  far  beyond  his  age, 
which  could  not  understand  him,  exclaims  in  a  sort 


PROGRESS.  133 


of  Divine  rapture,  "  I  can  wait  a  hundred  years  for  a 
reader,  since  God  waited  six  thousand  years  for  an 
observer  of  his  works." 

It  is  just  so  in  that  other  revelation,  God  revealing 
Himself  in  Jesus  Christ.  If  his  work  had  been  only 
a  human  contrivance,  like  that  of  all  teachers,  can  we 
imagine  that  eighteen  hundred  years  would  have 
passed  away,  and,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  the  choicest 
wisdom  of  the  world  would  find  that  it  had  learned 
only  the  surface  of  Him,  that  it  had  got  only  a  little 
way  beneath  the  letter  of  his  Word,  that  still  He  is  so 
far  before  the  age,  and  before  all  ages,  that  we  may 
say  of  Him  a  thousand  times  more  truly  than  Cole- 
ridge said  of  Milton,  that  He  dwarfs  Himself  in  the 
distance  ?  It  is  under  this  conception  of  Christ  and 
his  religion,  that  Liberal  Christianity  condemns  all 
attempts  to  reduce  them  into  a  human  creed,  and  so 
turn  them  into  fossils.  "  Away  with  your  human 
creeds  !  "  said  Channing  :  "  they  come  between  me 
and  my  Saviour,  in  whom  the  fulness  of  the  Divinity 
dwells." 

Let  us  now  see  what  is  progress  within  Chris- 
tianity, and  under  the  quickening  power  of  its  Divine 
revelations.  This  progress  may  be  briefly  specified 
under  three  heads  :  — 

1.  Our  knowledge  of  a  future  life. 

2.  Our  knowledge  of  God. 

3.  Our  knowledge  of  ourselves. 


134  PROGRESS. 


I.  The  progressive  knowledge  of  the  world  con- 
cerning the  great  themes  of  immortality,  under  the 
steady  light  of  the  Christian  revelation,  shows  how 
inexhaustible  are  its  riches.  The  age  of  Christ,  and 
the  ages  that  followed,  could  not  understand  Him ; 
and  why  should  they  ?  They  were  swamped  in  the 
senses,  and  had  just  begun  to  feel  the  motions  of  a 
spiritual  nature.  And  so  when  He  promised  to  come 
a^ain,  and  raise  the  dead,  and  abolish  death,  and  open 
the  heavens,  and  receive  his  saints  into  glory,  they 
thought  He  was  to  raise  the  dead  bodies  out  of  the 
graveyards  at  the  end  of  time,  and  take  them  up  into 
the  sky.  How  poor  and  inadequate  and  sensuous  the 
conception  !  on  a  plane  of  meaning  how  vastly  be- 
low that  of  Christ !  And  yet,  low  as  it  was,  what 
precious  immortal  truth  was  housed  and  protected  by 
it,  far  above  the  surrounding  paganism  in  which  men 
were  dying  without  hope,  while  the  great  company  of 
Christian  martyrs  and  believers  were  meeting  death 
with  triumphal  songs !  And  so  up  to  this  hour  all  sci- 
ence, philosophy,  and  discovery  have  only  helped  to 
interpret  Christ,  and  raise  the  world  up  to  the  level  of 
his  meaning,  and  make  us  wonder  we  had  not  seen  it 
before.  How  progressive  has  been  our  knowledge  of 
a  future  life !  And  now  the  shores  of  immortality, 
instead  of  being  away  over  the  river,  come  down  to 
meet  us,  are  firm  already  under  our  feet,  with  no  river 
of   death  between.       Only  the  frail  textures  of   this 


PROGRESS.  135 


mortal  body  between,  like  a  tent  pitched  for  a  day 
and  a  night,  whose  curtains  are  only  to  be  folded  up 
to  disclose  the  endless  perspectives  of  immortality. 
The  progress  of  the  Christian  faith  on  this  subject 
has  been  so  gradual  and  yet  so  sure,  that  we  hardly 
perceive  the  progress;  and  we  have  to  go  back  and 
dig  up  old  sermons,  or  decipher  old  tombstones,  be- 
fore we  discover  how  much  crude  and  earthly  stuff 
has  melted  out  of  the  creeds,  and  melted  away  from 
the  imperishable  gold.  Any  little  child  in  the  Sun- 
day school  knows  more  to-day  on  this  subject  than 
the  collective  wisdom  of  the  world  in  the  year  one. 
And  when  once  the  connection  between  this  life  and 
the  future  life  is  clearly  seen  and  acknowledged  as 
not  factitious  and  arbitrary,  but  as  organic  and  vital, 
there  is  hardly  an  article  of  the  Christian  faith  which 
is  not  shown  in  clearer  illumination.  The  resurrec- 
tion, retribution,  atonement,  heaven  and  hell,  and  eter- 
nal life,  are  freed  from  old  errors  and  absurdities, 
and  begin  to  disclose  their  wealth  of  meaning  as 
never  before.  Because,  if  the  resurrection  means  not 
that  of  dead  bodies. from  graveyards  to  a  local  heaven 
or  hell,  but  of  the  immortal  man  out  of  his  mortal 
covering  to  the  heaven  or  hell  he  belongs  to  already, 
and  which  first  enter  him  before  he  enters  them, 
there  is  no  longer  any  place  for  vicarious  atonement, 
or  imputed  righteousness,  or  arbitrary  punishments 
or  rewards.     Christianity,  free  of  artificial  theologies, 


136  PROGRESS. 


becomes  the  universal  religion,  through  which  the 
Christ  has  ever  a  new  advent  to  the  mind  and  heart 
of  man.  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway  ! "  And  still 
how  imperfectly  do  we  compass  all  the  wealth  of 
truth  in  the  words  of  Jesus,  and  all  that  He  meant 
by  heaven  and  hell,  and  eternal  life,  and  the  power 
of  his  resurrection!  and  how  fitting  still  is  Paul's 
language  on  our  lips !  —  "  Not  that  I  have  already  won, 
nor  am  already  perfect ;  but  I  press  on,  if  indeed  I 
might  lay  hold  on  that  for  which  Christ  laid  hold  on 
me." 

2.  Again  :  our  knowledge  of  God  is  steadily  pro- 
gressive under  the  Christian  relation.  God  is  infi- 
nite ;  and  the  highest  angels  do  not  learn  Him  out. 
But  we  get  ideas  and  representations  of  Him,  which 
draw  us  ever  up  into  his  light  and  love. 

Nature  represents  Him,  but  how  partially  and 
poorly  !  Nature,  says  Agassiz,  is  the  thought  of  God. 
That  were  well  enough  if  Nature  gave  only  images 
of  beneficence  and  purity.  But,  if  her  snakes  and 
reptiles  and  wolves  and  destructive  poisons  are  the 
thought  of  God,  then  I  despair  of  any  worship 
through  Nature,  that  opens  a  way  to  the  infinite  Love. 
So,  too,  if  our  sinful  and  erring  humanity  gives  us 
the  only  opening  up  into  the  nature  of  God,  our  case 
is  about  as  bad  ;  for  the  serpents  and  the  wolves  are 
in  that  also.  But  how  is  it  under  the  Christian  reve- 
lation ?     There  were  three  great  Sanctities  taught  by 


PROGRESS.  137 

Jesus,  —  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  ; 
and  in  the  name  of  these  He  charged  his  followers 
to  go  and  baptize  the  nations.  It  was  inevitable  that 
the  world,  just  emerging  from  its  besotted  idolatries, 
should  take  these  three  great  Sanctities  for  three 
Gods,  rather  than  for  the  methods  of  the  Divine  man- 
ifestations. So  they  did,  and  so  they  do  still.  But, 
even  so,  what  precious  truth  was  housed  and  shel- 
tered by  them  until  the  time  when  Christianity  by 
its  inherent  life  should  break  in  pieces  the  rude  cov- 
erings which  confined  it,  and  the  narrow  formulas 
which  crippled  it !  Trinitarianism  preserved  the 
great  truth  of  the  Divine  Personality,  without  which 
all  worship  is  only  a  cry  of  the  bereaved  heart  into 
vacancy.  Trinitarianism,  however  lame  and  imper- 
fect its  interpretation,  saved  the  world  from  an  idola- 
try which  was  worse  than  that,  and  from  an  atheism 
which  was  worse  yet,  until  these  three  great  Sanctities 
were  seen  in  a  higher  unity  with  their  fullest  revela- 
tion and  expression  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  highest  form 
in  which  God  can  possibly  be  symbolized,  a  perfect 
humanity  as  the  unclouded  image  of  his  attributes. 
The  progressive  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  the 
Christian  Church,  towards  the  highest  and  purest 
theism,  is  here  most  beautifully  illustrated.  Not 
through  nature,  not  through  your  humanity  or  mine, 
tainted  with  moral  corruption,  can  this  highest 
knowledge   be  obtained.      It  is  found  in  the  grand 


138  PROGRESS. 


composite  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament,  —  one 
God  and  one  Mediator.  The  first,  one  God,  preserves 
the  Divine  Unity;  and  the  intellect  is  satisfied  The 
second,  one  Mediator,  preserves  the  Divine  Humanity 
and  Personality ;  and  the  heart  is  satisfied  too.  I 
know  henceforth  that  those  golden  words,  justice, 
mercy,  goodness,  forgiveness,  and  love,  do  not  mean 
one  thing  as  applied  to  God,  and  quite  another  thing 
as  applied  to  men.  I  know  that  the  Divine  qualities 
revealed  in  and  through  Jesus  Christ  are  all  human 
and  personal  qualities  ;  and  the  hard  dogmas  of  Cal- 
vinism, and  the  gilded  fog  of  Pantheism,  melt  and 
vanish  alike  before  the  warm  splendors  of  that  reve- 
lation. 

3.  Lastly,  our  knowledge  of  ourselves.  How  little 
do  we  know  what  we  are  and  what  we  need,  until  we 
are  brought  under  the  analyzing  and  searching  beams 
of  the  gospel  of  Christ !  When  we  build  our  theolo- 
gies out  of  our  instincts  alone,  they  are  sure  to  pamper 
our  pride  and  self-love.  They  put  man  at  the  centre, 
and  God  away  off  on  the  circumference.  Now  Christ 
must  be  put  out  of  the  way,  say  some,  because  the 
spirit  of  the  age  requires  it.  They  assume  that  they 
are  the  age,  as  the  French  king  assumed  that  he  was 
the  state.  This  sort  of  conceit  is  natural  to  us ;  and 
it  is  the  very  stuff  which  the  gospel  of  Christ  first 
discovers,  and  sifts  clean  out  of  us,  giving  us  the 
humility  of    discipleship  instead.       The  highest  evi- 


PROGRESS.  139 


dence  of  Christianity  consists  in  its  own  power  of 
finding  men,  of  cleaving  through  the  incrustations  of 
self  and  sin,  of  smiting  the  rocky  heart,  and  making 
all  the  fountains  of  its  love  to  gush  forth.  These  are 
the  highest  miracles  of  Christianity.  Within  it  and 
beneath  it  I  become  conscious  of  depravity  and  want 
and  privation,  and  a  proud,  corrupt  selfhood.  But, 
under  its  regenerating  and  creative  power,  I  see  a 
creation  rise  out  of  this  chaos,  more  goodly  and  fair 
than  the  order  of  external  nature  ;  experiences  more 
rich  than  the  regalements  of  sense  ;  a  sunshine  from 
the  Divine  face,  more  bright  than  summer  glories ;  a 
peace  more  sweet  than  the  tranquillity  of  the  morn- 
ing,- affections  purged  of  self,  and  enlarged  to  uni- 
versal love ;  calls  to  duty  more  loud  and  clear  than 
matin-bells,  putting  all  private  wishes  and  passions  in 
the  hush  of  silence  ;  strength  to  suffer  and  to  do,  that 
comes  by  prayer  ;  a  power  back  of  personal  volitions, 
transfusing  the  whole  being,  and  creating  it  anew ; 
convictions  of  truth  growing  bright  to  the  perfect 
day ;  in  storms,  a  sense  of  refuge  under  the  shadow 
of  Divine  wings.  Here  are  the  miracles  of  Christ ;  and 
still  He  goes  before  us,  and  tells  us  of  greater  heights 
to  be  won.  And  so  we  end  as  we  began,  with  the 
same  words  on  our  lips  :  "  Not  that  I  have  already 
won,  or  am  already  perfect ;  but  I  press  on,  if  indeed 
I  might  lay  hold  on  that  for  which  Christ  laid  hold  on 
me." 


THE    THRONES    IN    HEAVEN. 


Revelation  XX.  4:  "  I  saw  thrones." 

THRONES  in  heaven  appear  often  in  the  imagery 
of  the  Seer  of  the  Apocalypse.  They  appear 
in  gradation,  rank  above  rank ;  and  three  grades  are 
defined  and  distinguished.  There  is  the  throne  of 
the  Supreme,  who  sits  thereon,  encircled  with  rain- 
bows ;  and  the  worshippers  rest  not,  day  nor  night, 
saying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty,  which 
was  and  is,  and  is  to  come !  " 

There  is  the  throne  of  the  Lamb,  who  receives 
homage  almost  as  great,  who  draws  around  Him  the 
hallelujahs  of  every  creature  which  is  in  heaven  and 
on  the  earth,  and  in  the  under- wo  rid  and  in  the  sea  ; 
whose  name  is  coupled  with  that  of  God  in  receiving 
adoration  ;  who  sitteth  down  on  the  throne  of  God, 
or  who  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,  so  that  the 
same  throne  is  called  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb. 
The  same  divine  predicates  are  applied  to  Him  as 
to  the  Almighty, — Alpha  and  Omega,  the  Beginning 
and  the  End,  the  First  and  the  Last.  And  He  feeds 
the  saints  from  the  midst  of  the  throne,  and  judges 


THE    THRONES  IN  HEAVEN.  141 

the  sinners  who  hide  under  rocks  from  the  wrath 
of  the  Lamb. 

Then  there  is  the  third  and  ]ower  rank  of  thrones, 
—  those  of  the  twenty-four  Elders;  thrones  of  judg- 
ment for  the  redeemed  who  are  to  reign  with  Christ; 
and  the  promise  is  given,  that,  as  Christ  sits  down 
with  the  Father  on  God's  throne,  so  the  saints  shall 
sit  down  with  Christ  on  his  throne. 

You  know  very  well  what  some  of  the  literalists 
make  of  all  this.  And,  in  my  judgment,  some  of  the 
Unitarian  literalists  make  the  worst  work  of  any- 
body. It  is  the  worship  of  a  created  being,  made 
almost  as  high  as  God,  but  not  quite  ;  so  exalted  that 
he  sits  on  the  throne  of  the  Almighty,  and  receives 
worship  such  as  no  enlightened  pagan  ever  gave  to 
inferior  divinities.  Yet  it  is  not  supreme  worship, 
they  say,  but  analogous  to  that  paid  to  sovereigns 
and  magistrates,  only  more  magnificent,  as  to  one 
whom  God  has  exalted  very  highly  ;  for,  does  He  not 
promise  the  same  to  his  saints  who  are  to  sit  with 
Him  on  thrones  of  judgment  ?  And  what  is  the 
judgment  seat  of  Christ,  to  which  his  saints,  and  we 
his  humble  followers,  are  thus  supposed  to  be  invited  ? 
Turn  to  the  twenty-fifth  chapter,  and  you  will  see. 
The  Son  of  man  comes  in  glory  to  summon  all 
peoples  to  his  bar,  sits  on  the  throne  of  his  glory,  and 
separates  the  saints  from  the  sinners,  —  those  to 
eternal   life,   these    to    eternal    punishment :    a    very 


142  THE    THRONES  IN  HEAVEN. 

singular  judicial  process,  if  the  saints  themselves  are 
on  the  throne  of  judgment,  and  not  at  the  judgment 
bar! 

This  imagery  of  the  Apocalypse  only  puts  into 
concrete  and  objective  form  the  figurative  language 
of  Jesus  in  the  Gospels.  When  events  were  moving 
on  to  their  crisis,  Peter  came  to  Jesus  with  the 
question,  "  Behold,  we  have  forsaken  all,  and  followed 
thee  :  what  shall  we  have  therefore  ? "  Then  Jesus 
assures  his  apostles  in  reply,  "  When  the  Son  of  man 
shall  sit  on  the  throne  of  his  glory,  ye  also  shall 
sit  upon  twelve  thrones,  judging  the  twelve  tribes  of 
Israel."  The  ambition  of  two  of  them  took  fire  at 
the  prospect.  They  wanted  the  highest  thrones,  one 
at  the  risrht  and  one  at  the  left  of  Christ ;  and,  soon 
after  that,  the  two  sons  of  Zebedee  came  with  their 
mother  secretly,  and  applied  for  such  promotion. 
What  was  the  answer  of  Jesus  ?  One  of  the  most 
solemn  rebukes  of  human  ambition  it  ever  received, 
and  one  of  the  most  touching  lessons  of  humility  and 
self-sacrifice  :  "  Whosoever  will  be  chief  among  you, 
let  him  be  your  servant ;  even  as  the  Son  of  man 
came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister.  To 
sit  on  my  right  hand  and  on  my  left,  is  not  mine  to 
give.  Ye  shall  indeed  drink  of  my  cup  ;  but  it  will 
be  a  cup  of  trembling."  Has  Jesus  left  these  lessons 
behind,  and  gone  into  the  heavens,  thence  to  address 
a  more  potent  stimulus  to   our  mean   selfishness  and 


THE    THRONES  IN  HE  A  VEN.  143 


our  pompous  vanities  than  the  empty  grandeurs  of 
earth  could  ever  give  ?  When  we  undertake  to  inter- 
pret a  symbolical  book,  we  should  not  mix  up  symbol 
and  letter  into  a  jumble.  What  a  slough  of  insane 
nonsense  the  Apocalypse  has  been  made  of  in  that 
way,  any  one  may  see  by  reading  over  the  piles  of 
commentary  under  which  it  has  been  buried.  But 
keep  consistently  to  the  symbolic  meaning ;  and  then, 
though  we  may  not  be  drawn  up  to  its  sublime  heights 
of  vision,  we  shall  have  serene  and  blissful  openings 
through  which  come  beholdings  of  truth,  as  through 
gates  ajar. 

Persons  in  the  Apocalypse,  and  the  imagery  among 
which  persons  appear,  symbolize  truths,  —  even  Chris- 
tianity as  a  system  of  truth  in  its  power  of  judging, 
regenerating,  and  saving  mankind.  What  are  the 
apostolic  thrones  ?  Seats  raised  aloft,  with  the  fisher- 
men of  Galilee  robed  royally,  and  sitting  thereon  as 
the  judges  of  their  fellow-men,  —  they  to  whom  the 
first  injunction  came,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not 
judged  "  ?  Not  at  all ;  but  the  apostolic  truths  which 
they  represented,  applied  in  their  royal  power  to  sub- 
due and  to  save,  and  beneath  which  those  twelve  men 
have  learned  by  this  time  to  bring  themselves  in  lowly 
self-surrender.  And  what  is  the  worship  of  the  Lamb  ? 
Of  some  created,  dependent  being,  receiving  joint 
honors  with  God,  and  while  sitting  on  his  throne 
with   the   hallelujahs  of   the   universe  rising  around 


144  THE    THRONES  IN  HE  A  VEX. 

him  ?  Not  at  all.  It  is  the  worship  of  God  as  seen 
in  the  Word,  the  Divine  Truth  that  reveals  Him, 
that  Divine  Truth  which  was  made  flesh,  —  the  wor- 
ship of  God  as  humanized  to  our  finite  conceptions 
and  deepest  spiritual  needs.  Does  any  enlightened 
person  need  to  have  it  proved  to  him  that  the  "  Lamb 
as  it  had  been  slain,  seen  in  the  midst  of  the  throne 
of  God,"  is  not  letter,  but  symbol  ?  —  not  a  Lamb  lit- 
erally, nor  a  man  who  had  been  put  to  death,  but  the 
Divine  Nature  symbolized  to  us  as  Sacrifice,  Mercy, 
and  Love,  —  love  so  tender  that,  like  our  human  love, 
it  can  be  wounded,  even  bleed  for  us,  can  give  itself 
away  for  our  redemption,  yea,  can  be  crucified  and 
killed,  —  killed  out  from  the  impenitent  soul ;  a  love 
of  which  the  sacrifice  on  Calvary  is  only  an  outward 
sign,  but  the  truest  and  the  tenderest  which  our 
earthly  annals  can  afford.  Such  are  the  sublime 
doctrines  set  forth  by  these  thrones  in  heaven, — 
whether  they  be  apostolic,  or  the  throne  of  God  and 
the  Lamb. 

But  let  us  come  to  the  great  practical  lessons  which 
are  evolved,  and  which  speak  to  our  condition,  from 
these  passages  of  the  Divine  Word.  There  is  a  les- 
son of  Christian  humility,  and  there  is  a  lesson  per- 
taining to  the  Christian  experience. 

t.  I  saw  thrones, —  thrones  of  men  who  try  to 
sit  on  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  or  who  steal  his 
truth,  and  try  to  make  it  their  own,  and  trick  them- 


THE    THRONES  IN  HEAVEN.  145 

selves  out  in  its  splendor  and  royalty.  To  preach 
Christ  is  to  put  one's  self  altogether  out  of  the  way, 
—  to  hide  one's  self,  as  it  were,  in  Him,  —  so  that 
his  word  and  doctrine  may  have  a  more  unobscured 
and  perfect  forthgoing.  When  you  see  a  sect  or 
denomination  bringing  out  its  great  men,  who  cover 
each  other  continually  with  garments  of  praise  and 
adulation,  you  may  be  pretty  sure  they  are  fast  losing 
sight  of  the  Master.  How  often  do  these  idols 
appear  upon  the  stage  to  receive  the  incense  of  the 
hour,  and  then  to  be  dashed  down  again,  or  to  be  cov- 
ered with  mire  when  they  cease  to  echo  back  the  adu- 
lations, or  phrase  the  notions,  of  the  hour  !  No  surer 
test  could  be  applied,  to  determine  the  state  of  the 
times,  than,  how  fat  persons  are  made  to  figure  in  the 
foreground,  and  not  these  great  and  shining  truths 
before  whose  coming  persons  fade  out  of  sight,  yea, 
before  which  every  man  becomes  great  only  as  he 
hides  himself  in  those  beams  in  whose  shinings  he  is 
less  than  a  mote  in  the  waves  of  a  summer's  noon. 
How  instinctively  do  we  give  the  name  of  "  personal- 
ities "  to  those  controversies  in  which  men  put  for- 
ward their  little  selves  till  they  cease  to  represent 
ideas !  When  churches  are  gathered  around  men, 
dependent  upon  the  sensation  men  can  produce,  to  be 
played  upon  by  words,  or  amused  by  the  sky-rockets 
of  eloquence,  they  are  churches  no  more,  but  a  mob 
of  people  to  dispute  when  the  show  is  over,  and  the 


146  THE    THRONES  IN  HEAVEN. 

rockets  have  gone  out.  Oh  !  I  have  been  to  churches 
where  the  preaching  intellectually  was  about  as  poor 
as  it  could  be,  but  where  the  Christ,  in  his  Word, 
seemed  all  the  more  to  come  in,  and  thrill  every  soul 
as  with  the  pulsings  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  where 
every  one  had  a  sense  of  mingled  reverence  and 
delight,  as  he  felt  his  feet  taking  hold  of  the  Rock  of 
Ages.  What  are  preachers  with  their  rhetoric,  where 
the  heavens  are  open,  and  God  is  coming  down,  and 
the  great  doctrines  of  Christianity,  loud  as  the  sound 
of  many  waters,  are  speaking  to  the  conscience  and 
to  the  heart,  and  to  the  ear  of  Christian  faith,  and 
bringing  salvation  nigh  ?  I  have  been  to  church,  too, 
where  there  was  neither  God  nor  Christ,  but  where 
some  preacher  had  usurped  the  place  of  both,  playing 
upon  crowds  without  ideas,  or  with  only  negative 
ones,  and  where  the  crowd  was  to  melt  away  to-mor- 
row, like  a  mob  seeking  some  new  diversion. 

Only  when  the  apostolic  thrones  arise  in  their  real 
grandeur,  not  thrones  of  men  but  thrones  of  judg- 
ment, where  Divine  Truth  sits  in  its  royalty  and  sov- 
ereignty, bringing  home  to  the  conscience  the  mean- 
ness of  self  and  the  littleness  of  its  pride,  and  laying 
it  prone  in  the  dust  with  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a 
sinner;"  opening  the  future  down  the  long  avenues 
of  its  retributions  ;  showing  where  the  ways  part  up 
and  down,  and  showing  the  way  to  pardon,  purity,  and 
peace,  —  only  there   are  such   thrones   as  are  set    in 


THE    THRONES  IN  HEAVEN.  147 

heaven.  And  before  these  thrones  persons  disappear 
and  hide  themselves  ;  and  the  voice  comes  now  as 
ever,  "  He  that  is  greatest  among  you,  let  him  be  your 
servant ;  even  as  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life 
a  ransom  for  many.  Ye  shall  indeed  drink  of  my 
cup ;  but  it  must  be  a  cup  of  sacrifice,  and,  to  your 
ambition  and  your  pride,  a  cup  of  trembling." 

2.  I  saw  thrones.  What  thrones  does  the  vision 
disclose  in  the  opening  future?  See  how  the  apos- 
tolic thrones  of  judgment  have  been  rising  ever  since, 
towering  above  the  strifes  and  ambitions  of  men. 
When  St.  John  had  this  vision  of  the  future,  Rome 
was  ruling  the  whole  world,  and  the  Christian  martyrs 
were  pouring  out  their  lives  at  the  foot  of  the  Roman 
power,  and  John  was  in  banishment  at  Patmos.  But 
look  down  a  few  years,  and  behold  the  change  ! 

"  The  Roman  Caesars  rule  the  world, 
Jehovah's  sway  is  given  to  Jove  : 

But,  lo  !  Christ's  standard  is  unfurled  : 
The  eagle  cowers  before  the  dove  ; 

Before  the  nations'  wondering  eyes 

The  apostolic  thrones  arise." 

And  they  have  been  rising  ever  since  higher  and 
higher  above  the  strifes  and  tumults  of  this  world. 
The  Christian  truth,  on  its  throne  of  authority,  has 
been  gaining  year  by  year  in  its  power  over  persons 


148  THE    THRONES  IN  HEAVEN 

and  personal  strifes.  The  Divine  Creed  of  the  Bible, 
above  all  private  creeds  and  personal  interpretations 
of  it,  gains  in  authority,  I  think,  day  by  day.  It  be- 
comes daily  more  profane  to  dispute  over  truths  which 
ought  to  command  us  and  hold  us  in  reverent  awe ; 
before  which  inquiry  and  comparison,  and  mutual 
help,  are  the  proper  attitude,  but  beneath  which  per- 
sonal disputing  ought  to  be  hushed  as  a  clap  of 
thunder  hushes  the  noise  of  a  rookery.  Why,  they 
talk  about  the  nature  of  Christ,  and  the  psychology  of 
God,  which  they  propose  to  analyze  as  a  naturalist 
would  analyze  a  sea-shell  or  an  insect's  wing  !  To 
understand  Christ,  we  must  follow  Him;  to  know 
God,  we  must  obey  Him,  — obey  Him  in  thought  and 
in  heart,  as  well  as  deed.  And  then  He  draws  us  up 
into  his  refuge,  and  tells  us  the  secret  of  his  nature  ; 
for  He  gives  us  a  living  experience  of  his  love. 

3.  I  saw  thrones.  And  high  above  them  all  is 
"  the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb."  This  it  is 
which  is  circled  with  rainbows,  token  that  the 
storms  are  over.  What  an  image  to  symbolize  to 
us,  and  open  out  to  us,  the  wealth  of  the  Divine 
Nature  in  all  its  goodness  and  tenderness !  No 
wonder  that  St.  John  dwelt  upon  the  image  so 
fondly.  He  had  walked  with  Jesus  through  the 
fields  of  Esdraelon,  where  the  shepherds  lead  the 
flocks  beside  the  still  waters.  There  he  had  seen 
the  shepherds    carry  the   lambs    in  their   arms,  and 


THE    THRONES  IN  HEAVEN.  149 

feed  them.  He  had  seen  the  lamb  offered  in 
sacrifice  on  the  altar.  All  this  imagery  passes 
into  his  vision ;  and  he  looks  up,  and  sees  the 
Lord  of  heaven  no  longer  as  on  Sinai,  clothed  in 
lightnings,  but  clothed  in  rainbows,  and  imaged 
forth  as  Sacrifice,  Mercy,  and  Peace.  Type  and 
symbol,  too,  of  the  Christian  experience;  for  when 
our  angers,  our  strifes,  our  passions,  keep  us  away 
from  Him,  He  is  a  consuming  fire.  His  nature 
and  ours  are  in  lurid  antagonism.  We  may  talk  of 
the  love  of  God,  but  it  turns  to  lightning  around 
us.  Come  to  Him  in  filial  obedience  and  self- 
surrender,  and  before  long  you  look  up,  and  there 
are  thrones  in  heaven,  and  above  them  all  is  the 
throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb,  and  all  around  it  are 
the  rainbows  of  Peace.  Then  and  there  we  enter 
the  still  region  that  lies  away  from  broils,  and,  in  the 
full  experience  of  the  Divine  forgiveness,  we  sing  our 
Coronation  Song  :  — 

"  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  to  receive 
power  and  riches,  and  wisdom  and  strength,  and 
honor  and  glory,  and  blessing ;  for  Thou  hast  re- 
deemed us  to  God  by  thy  blood,  out  of  every  kindred 
and  tongue  and  people  and  nation." 


PEACE    BY    POWER. 


Matthew  X.  34 :  "I  came  not  to  send  peace,  but  a  sword." 

EIGHTEEN  hundred  years  of  conflict  is  the 
summing-up  of  the  external  history  of  Chris- 
tianity. There  have  been  intervals  of  peace  ;  but 
these  intervals  have  been  of  the  nature  of  a  truce 
rather  than  of  a  settled  and  universal  amity.  Some 
of  the  great  wars,  modern  and  mediaeval,  may  be 
traced  directly  or  indirectly  to  the  new  element  which 
Christianity  has  brought  in  for  working  out  the  civil- 
ization of  modern  times.  Our  war  of  independence 
could  never  have  taken  the  form  it  did,  perhaps 
would  never  have  occurred  at  all,  had  some  of  the 
first  principles  of  the  gospel  not  been  involved  in  it ; 
and  our  late  civil  war  was  an  open  and  direct  con- 
flict of  Christian  civilization  with  the  old  barbarism 
which  sought  to  quench  the  light  of  that  civilization 
in  Christian  blood. 

For,  what  is  the  element  which  Christianity  has 
brought  into  the  world,  and  which  struggles  for  supre- 
macy ?  It  is  the  worth  of  man.  It  is  the  new  and 
higher  valuation  placed  on  the  human  soul.     It  is  the 


PEACE  BY  POWER.  151 

worth  of  man,  not  merely  as  a  part  of  the  state,  nor 
as  a  subject  of  government  and  a  means  to  its  tem- 
poral ends  ;  but  his  worth  individually  and  personally, 
having  in  himself  an  end,  to  accomplish  which,  both 
Church  and  State  are,  or  should  be,  means  and  helps. 
The  Christ  reveals  to  the  individual  consciousness 
a  capacity  and  destiny  reaching  beyond  time  into  the 
endless  future  ;  and  reveals  that  the  highest  offence 
against  God  and  humanity  is  to  violate  the  conditions 
of  human  development  and  progress.  To  restore  the 
Divine  image  in  the  soul,  and  show  the  worth  of 
human  nature  for  endless  progress  and  enjoyment, 
and  remove  out  of  the  way  every  thing  that  hinders 
their  realization, — it  was  for  this  that  Christ  came 
into  the  world.  But  what  loads  of  effete  supersti- 
tions were  piled  upon  the  soul,  and  were  crushing  it 
into  the  dust!  what  hoary  despotisms,  both  Jewish  and 
pagan  !  What  revolutions  must  be  set  going,  heaving 
society  from  its  old  foundations,  what  commotions, 
what  wars  in  divers  places,  before  the  burdens  could 
be  lifted  off,  and  the  soul  be  set  free  on  its  upward 
way !  The  vast  multitude  of  human  beings  were  but 
as  the  swarms  of  a  day,  before  the  tyrannies  of  the 
age  ;  but,  in  each  individual  of  those  multitudes, 
Christianity  revealed  a  royalty  which  in  the  eye  of 
God  outshone  all  the  grandeurs  of  earth. 

Of    course,  the  first  thing  Jesus   brought  was    a 
sword.     Not  in  his   own  person,  not  girded  with  it 


152  PEACE  BY  POWER. 

Himself,  nor  binding  it  on  his  disciples.  This  plain- 
ly is  not  his  meaning.  On  the  contrary,  his  charge 
to  his  disciples  was,  "Be  ye  wise  as  serpents,  and 
harmless  as  doves."  But  He  caused  it  to  be  brought. 
He  furnished  the  occasion  of  its  flashing  from 
innumerable  scabbards,  with  the  purpose  of  cleaving 
down  this  new  religion  which  put  the  human  soul 
above  all  temporal  interests  and  royalties,  and  bade 
them  serve  and  do  it  homage.  It  was  drawn  first  on 
Himself.  The  Jewish  ecclesiasticism  was  already 
undermined  by  Him.  He  had  inaugurated  a  moral 
revolution  that  was  roiling  from  Galilee  up  to  the 
capital,  and  rolling  under  it.  The  priesthood  must 
go  down,  or  Christianity  must.  It  was  Calvary  over 
against  Mount  Moriah.  It  was  the  invisible  New 
Jerusalem  against  the  old  Jerusalem.  And  it  has 
been  Calvary  ever  since,  —  Calvaries  all  over  the 
earth,  where  the  New  Jerusalem  has  been  descending 
and  bringing  redemption  to  the  soul,  —  over  against 
the  old  Jerusalem  which  wields  the  sword  against 
it,  but  in  vain. 

Such,  it  seems  to  me  beyond  question,  is  our 
Saviour's  meaning  in  the  text  where  He  is  putting  his 
religion  over  against  the  false  religions  which  were 
to  oppose  it,  and  try  to  extinguish  it  in  its  own  blood. 
It  would  divide  friends,  neighbors,  families  ;  for  the 
new  converts  would  come  .out  of  all  conditions.  The 
new   gospel   would    take    a   deeper   hold    of    human 


PEACE  BY  POWER. 


nature  than  any  natural  or  earthly  ties,  parting  men 
by  new  divisions  right  and  left,  leaving  the  old  heath- 
enism and  Judaism  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the 
new  converts  out  of  them,  to  be  imprisoned,  perse- 
cuted, and  slain  ;  and  so  the  brother  would  deliver  up 
the  brother  to  death,  and  the  father  the  child,  and 
the  children  would  rise  up  against  their  parents,  and 
a  man's  foes  be  they  of  his  own  household.  Such 
was  the  prophecy  in  this  tenth  chapter,  and  such  the 
graphic  history  which  fills  it  up.  "  Xot  peace,  but 
a  sword."  Though  not  in  a  literal  sense,  yet  in  a 
secondary  and  spiritual  sense,  these  words  apply 
undoubtedly  to  Christ  and  Christianity.  The  sword 
of  the  Spirit  is  mightier  than  all  earthly  weapons  ; 
and  this  by  no  means  does  our  Saviour  renounce 
or  lay  aside.  His  religion  was  to  be  aggressive 
and  uncompromising  beyond  all  others.  He  would 
accept  no  niche  in  the  heathen  Pantheon, 'merely  to 
be  tolerated  there.  He  meant  to  overthrow  all  the 
idols  of  the  time,  and  sweep  them  clean  away,  and 
reign  Himself  alone.  He  might  have  avoided  all 
persecution  by  compromise,  or  by  withdrawing  from 
the  conflict,  as  the  Essenes  did,  into  the  mere  luxury 
of  private  devotion ;  and  then,  like  the  Essene  reli- 
gion, Christianity  would  soon  have  faded  from  the 
earth,  and  humanity  would  have  groaned  under  its  bur- 
den forever.  But,  no.  His  disciples  went  forth  in  the 
battle  against  wrong,  to  conquer  and  slay  it,  and  hold 


1 5  4  PEA  CE  BY  PO  WE  P. 

their  lives  cheap  in  the  conflict ;  and  no  friendships 
were  to  hinder  the  loyalty  of  the  disciple  to  Christ 
and  his  doctrine.  "  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother 
more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me  ;  and  he  that  lov- 
eth son  or  daughter  more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of 
me."  Such  is  the  spiritual  meaning.  "  Not  peace, 
but  a  sword." 

There  are  some  practical  lessons  which  come  from 
the  subject,  which  I  want  to  draw  out  and  apply. 

And  the  first  pertains  to  the  true  relation  and  bear- 
ing of  the  Church  of  Christ  to  the  unbeliefs  and  evils 
of  the  time.  Two  courses  or  methods  are  recom- 
mended. One  is  to  make  peace  with  the  world,  to 
compromise  with  it ;  to  sheathe  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit,  and  give  over  the  conflict  between  Christian- 
ity and  unbelief,  and  concede  that  nothing  beyond  this 
present  life  is  known  with  sufficient  certainty  to  war- 
rant any  dispute  about  it.  As  we  were  taught  the 
other  day,  by  one  who  occupies  a  Christian  pulpit,  we 
might  draw  the  atheist  into  our  Christian  commun- 
ions by  saying  to  him,  "  We  have  the  same  difficulties 
that  you  have ;  we  are  only  inquirers  about  this 
matter:  come  join  us,  and  inquire  with  us.  This  is 
the  true  liberality  in  religion,  to  do  away  with  all 
creeds,  since  one  is  as  good  as  another,  and  none  are 
of  any  authenticity  or  value."  And  so  a  missionary 
at  the  West,  who  went  to  establish  a  society  where 
there  were  known  to  be  philosophical  unbelievers,  left 


PE A CE  BY  PO WER.  1 5 5 

out  from  his  published  articles  the  idea  of  God,  in  the 
hope  of  winning  their  confidence  and  co-operation. 
And  what  is  the  answer  which  the  world  makes  to 
this  policy  ?  It  is  this  :  "  If  you  Christians  have  in- 
quired eighteen  hundred  years  on  these  subjects, 
without  coming  to  any  conclusions,  you  are  not  the 
people  for  us  to  go  to  school  to  ;  much  less  if,  having 
reached  conclusions,  you  are  afraid  to  announce  them 
and  stand  by  them  as  the  strength  and  inspiration  of 
your  moral  manhood."  Infidelity  is  bold  enough  and 
honest  enough  in  its  denials ;  and  it  will  have  only 
contempt  for  any  form  of  religion  which  tries  to  split 
the  difference  between  yes  and  no. 

So,  then,  the  other  method  is  affirmation,  aggression, 
and  conflict  of  good  with  evil,  and  truth  with  error, 
where  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  flashes  with  its  sharp- 
est and  clearest  splendors.  Christianity  is  aggress- 
ive, or  it  is  nothing.  The  Church  is  militant,  or  it 
goes  under;  for  the  grand  truths  it  holds  —  of  the 
Divine  Personality,  of  immortality,  of  the  spiritual 
nature  of  man,  of  his  probation  here,  of  his  moral 
responsibilities  which  hold  him  to  endless  retribu- 
tions, of  his  origin,  dignity,  and  worth,  as  the  heir  of 
an  endless  life  —  are  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  nega- 
tions of  unbelief  which  make  him  only  a  creature  of 
this  world,  to  be  extinguished  in  it  at  last.  So  that 
still  the  motto  is,  ''Not  peace,  but  a  sword."  And 
there  is  another  lesson.      Observe,  the  great  virtues 


156  PEACE  BY  POWER. 

come  into  exercise  only  by  moral  conflict  and  spirit- 
ual warfare.  In  a  dead  and  sleepy  uniformity,  the 
reason  is  benumbed  and  dwarfed,  and  there  is  room 
only  for  cowardice,  and  torpor  of  both  mind  and 
heart,  and  indolence  and  indifference  to  all  truth ;  and 
that  is  spiritual  death.  In  conflict  there  is  the  enlarge- 
ment of  the  reason,  and  the  waking-up  of  all  the  fac- 
ulties, and  full  scope  for  candor  and  magnanimity 
and  enlightened  tolerance,  and  the  sweet  charities 
wThich  come  from  a  profounder  knowledge  of  the 
wants,  the  weaknesses,  and  the  fallibilities  of  human 
nature.  A  little  Christianity,  or  a  false  one,  will  not 
cure  the  native  conceit  and  arrogance  of  the  human 
heart ;  and  all  bitterness  and  bigotry  come  not  of 
religion,  but  the  want  of  it.  They  are  the  virus  of 
the  natural  man,  that  needs  to  be  purged  away.  For 
that  reason,  Christ  is  to  be  preached,  and  his  truth 
made  aggressive ;  for,  the  nearer  you  come  to  the 
heart  of  Christ,  so  much  the  more  will  you  be  clothed 
in  his  gentleness  and  grace,  and  so  much  more  of  the 
heavenly  temper  will  be  transfused  through  the  bat- 
tle of  right  with  wrong.  Christianity  is  the  most  lib- 
eral where  there  is  the  most  of  it ;  because  there  we 
learn  the  worth  of  human  souls,  and  the  dangers  that 
beset  them,  and  are  brought  into  full  commiseration 
with  all  their  wants  and  woes ;  and  because  there,  if 
anywhere,  our  pride  and  arrogance  are  taken  out  of 
us,  and  all  personal  exaltation  is  rebuked  as  we  affirm 


PEACE  BY  POWER.  157 

the  great  verities  of  the  gospel.  Liberality  or  com- 
prehension or  Broad  Church  is  not  the  aggregation 
of  all  sorts  of  opinions  and  things,  but  the  vital  belief 
and  practice  of  those  which  bring  you  into  most  lov- 
ing fellowship  with  all  humanity  and  consecration  to 
its  welfare  ;  and  it  demands  just  as  well  the  rejection 
of  those  that  would  dash  down  its  hopes  of  regenera- 
tion and  progress.  Christ  Himself  denounced  only 
hypocrisy  and  wrong.  To  these  his  words  were 
forked  lightnings.  To  simple  benighted  unbelief,  to 
mere  errors  of  creed  or  errors  of  practice,  his  warfare 
was  like  the  conflict  of  the  dawn  with  the  darkness ; 
and  his  prayer,  "  Father,  forgive  them."  None  so 
comprehending  as  He ;  and  none  whose  doctrine  dis- 
criminated more  sharply  the  truth  that  cleanses  and 
inspires  human  nature,  from  the  falsities  that  darken 
and  lead  astray.  For  the  sake  of  humanity,  then,  for 
the  sake  of  charity,  for  the  sake  of  that  love  of  man 
which  has  all  the  gall  of  the  natural  heart  purged  out 
of  it,  and  all  the  tenderness  of  God  breathed  into  it, 
—  not  peace,  but  a  sword,  for  the  falsities  that  hinder 
the  reign  of  Christ  on  earth  and  in  the  human  soul. 

And  there  is  another  lesson  still.  For  the  sake  of 
peace  itself,  that  peace  which  is  profound  and  real, 
and  not  a  patched-up  truce  with  evil  and  wrong,  Jesus 
brings  first  the  sword  of  the  Spirit.  There  are  two 
kinds  of  peace.  There  is  the  peace  that  comes  by  com- 
promise with  evil,  and  there  is  the  peace  that  comes  by 


158  PEACE  BY  POWER. 

conquest  over  evil.  The  first  is  a  hollow  truce  :  the 
last  is  the  peace  of  God  that  passeth  understanding. 
The  first  comes  from  moral  weakness  :  the  last  is 
peace  by  power.  Look  into  your  own  heart  or  your 
own  experience,  if  you  are  a  Christian  man  or  woman, 
and  you  will  have  a  perfect  representation  of  the  way 
in  which  the  kingdom  of  God  comes  on.  It  comes 
by  conquest,  if  it  comes  at  all.  You  cannot  lie  down 
and  sleep,  and  let  the  evils  in  you  have  their  own 
way,  —  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and 
the  pride  of  life,  the  love  of  self  and  the  love  of  the 
world  and  the  love  of  ease,  the  doubts  and  the  fears 
which  are  born  of  unbelief,  or  the  passions  the 
angers  and  the  hatreds  that  are  born  of  sin.  You 
cannot  make  peace  with  all  these.  No,  you  must 
grapple  with  them,  and  slay  them,  and  have  them 
under  your  feet ;  and  then  comes  peace,  full  of  joy, 
as  Channing  says,  without  one  throb  of  tumultuous 
passion,  the  prelude  of  the  peace  of  a  happier  world. 
This  is  the  peace  by  power.  The  conflict  may  be 
long  and  arduous ;  but  this  is  the  auspicuous  consum- 
mation. And  this  we  always  pray  for  in  the  words, 
"  Thy  kingdom  come."  It  is  the  battle  of  life  within 
you  every  day,  —  the  battle  between  the  world  with 
its  encroaching  line  of  conquest,  and  the  kingdom  of 
God  which  comes  on  to  take  possession.  One  recedes 
as  the  other  advances;  and,  alas  !  how  many  go  down 
under  the  god  of  this  world,  and  its  wave  of  conquest 


PEACE  BY  POWER.  1 59 

closes  over  them,  because  the  flaming  sword  of  the 
Spirit  has  never  been  drawn  !  The  kingdom  of  God 
is  within  you,  if  you  ever  attain  it;  and  it  comes 
not  by  compromise,  but  it  comes  by  power.  So  Jesus 
conquered  before  ever  He  tried  to  conquer  the  world. 
His  first  conflict  was  in  that  forty  days'  battle  with 
temptation  ;  and  not  till  the  end  of  it,  came  the  peace 
within  from  the  overshadowing  wings  of  the  minis- 
tering angels.  We  must  follow  Him  to  the  same 
heights  of  peace,  if  we  ever  reach  them,  for  there  is 
no  roundabout  way  ;  and  we  shall  not  be  borne  to 
them  on  beds  of  ease,  nor  on  the  tides  of  our 
passions.  We  fight  our  way,  or  we  never  get  there. 
And  only  from  the  heights  won  by  conquest  can  we 
take  up  the  song  of  victory,  — 


Lo,  the  pathway  lies  behind  us, 

Where  we  marched  o'er  heaps  of  slain  ; 
Where  our  vanquished  foes  lie  bleeding, 

All  along  the  battle-plain  : 
All  the  sordid  troop  of  .Mammon, 

Coward  Fear,  and  Lust  of  Praise, 
Death  that  cast  his  baleful  shadow 

Over  all  our  darkling  ways,  — 


Unbelief  that  feeds  on  ashes, 
Fear  of  man  that  brings  a  snare, 

Selfish  Grief,  and  selfish  Pleasure, 
Carnal  Pride,  and  haggard  Care, 


i6o  PEACE  BY  POWER. 

Satan  in  fair  form  transfigured, 
Strewing  garlands  on  the  road, 

To  install  our  vaunting  Reason 
On  the  eternal  throne  of  God. 


Such  are  the  enemies  in  this  conflict  of  Christ  with 
the  world;  and,  these  everywhere  overcome,  the  song 
over  Bethlehem  floats  over  the  whole  world,  "  Peace 
on  earth,  and  good-will  amongst  men." 


THE   ATONEMENT. 


John  T.  29 :   "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,   that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world.'' 

THE  Christian  atonement  is  undoubtedly  the 
central  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament,  —  say 
rather  of  the  Old  and  the  New  Testament  both, — 
and  of  all  religion  which  is  worthy  of  the  name. 
Very  unfortunately,  it  has  been  made  the  topic  of 
dispute  and  controversy,  though  that  were  to  be 
expected ;  for  what  touches  the  supreme  interest  of 
men  must  needs  be  a  matter  of  inquiry,  and  therefore 
of  debate.  It  is  only  on  one  side,  however,  that  there 
is  any  room  for  debate  among  those  who  receive  the 
New  Testament  as  a  rule  of  faith.  As  a  subject  of 
philosophy  and  speculation,  involving  the  reasons  of 
the  Divine  Government,  the  subject  branches  off 
into  the  unknown  and  the  unknowable.  Brought 
home  to  us  in  its  practical  bearing,  it  is  so  plain  that 
the  wayfaring  man,  though  a  fool,  cannot  miss  the 
message  which  the  gospel  brings. 

Have  you  never  noticed,   on  reading  your  Bibles, 
that  indescribable  tone  of  concern  with  which  always 


1 62  THE  ATONEMENT. 

the  Divine  message  comes  to  men  ?  Even  if  we 
could  not  distinctly  articulate  the  doctrines  of  the 
gospel,  we  should  know  by  this  tone  of  grieving 
mercy  that  something  very  great  was  at  stake  ;  that 
the  Divine  Mind  looked  into  gulfs  of  ruin  too  deep 
for  us  to  fathom,  and  saw  heights  of  bliss  and  glory 
towering  beyond  our  sight ;  and  that  there  was,  if  I 
may  so  say,  the  deep  anxiety  of  the  Divine  Mind  to 
save  men  from  the  one,  and  raise  them  up  into  the 
fruition  of  the  other.  This  tone  of  the  message, 
quite  as  much  as  the  matter  of  it,  is  what  searches 
us  and  finds  us  when  reading  our  Bibles  ;  and  it  gives 
unction  to  that  deep  and  tender  pathos  which 
breathes  through  the  discourses  of  Jesus,  as  in  the 
farewell  to  Jerusalem  :  — 

"  How  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children 
as  a  bird  gathers  her  brood  under  her  wings !  " 

The  atonement  is  oneness  with  God,  — man  rec- 
onciled. Its  consummation  is  described  by  Jesus, 
"  That  they  all  may  be  one,  as  thou,  Father,  art  in 
me,  and  I  in  thee ;  that  they  may  be  one  in  us,  and 
that  the  world  may  believe  that  thou  hast  sent  me." 

1.  Christ  as  a  sacrifice  ; 

2.  What  that  sacrifice  means  and  represents  ; 

3.  And  what  conditions  it  requires  of  us,  —  these 
three  topics  will  unfold  the  subject,  and  bring  it  home 
to  us. 

r.  "Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away  the 


THE  ATONEMENT.  163 

sin  of  the  world."  The  image  is  a  very  expressive 
and  a  very  beautiful  one.  A  lamb  was  an  offering 
for  sin, — a  sacrifice  slain  for  its  expiation.  Hence 
Jesus  is  called  the  Lamb  of  God,  at  the  opening  of 
John's  Gospel,  where,  in  his  first  revealing  Divine 
gracefulness,  He  appears  before  the  evangelist,  and 
the  Baptist  says,  "  Here  is  the  Lamb,  the  sacrifice 
that  is  to  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 

And  it  tones  the  discourses  of  Jesus  and  the  New 
Testament  throughout.  Jesus  is  the  first  Reformer 
we  read  of  who,  at  the  beginning,  took  his  own  death 
into  his  plan,  as  if  he  knew  the  plan  were  a  failure  if 
that  were  left  out.  Hence  the  indescribable  pathos 
that  swells  through  his  discourses.  It  is  not  despond- 
ency nor  complaint,  but  that  Divine  sympathy  that 
tinges  every  thing  with  the  thought  of  sacrifice. 
His  body  is  broken  bread,  his  blood  is  flowing  wine, 
and  the  oil  that  balmed  his  weary  feet  was  bahning 
them  for  burial.  All  through  the  fourth  Gospel  we 
never  lose  sight  of  the  Son  of  God  as  the  Lamb  that 
was  to  be  slain. 

But  let  us  not  mistake.  It  is  not  merely  the  death 
on  the  cross  that  makes  Him  a  sacrifice  for  man,  and 
cleanses  man  from  sin.  By  dwelling  too  grossly  on 
his  physical  agonies,  we  may  even  lose  sight  of  the 
great  truth  .itself.  There  was  suffering  of  another 
kind.  The  burden  of  suffering  and  woe  which  lay 
upon  a  sinful  world  was  all  laid  upon   Him.     If  you 


1 64  THE  ATONEMENT. 

would  know  what  that  is,  think,  some  of  you,  of  your 
own  experience.  Have  you  watched  at  a  friend's 
side,  and  found  every  throb  of  anguish  which  he  felt 
going  through  you  ?  Have  you  found  as  parent,  or 
brother,  or  sister,  that  the  woes  of  your  own  domestic 
circle  and  society  were  drawn  up  into  your  own  heart, 
and  were  constantly  rending  its  finest  strings  and 
tendrils  ?  Then  you  will  have  some  conception  of 
the  sufferings  of  Him  whose  family  was  the  whole 
race  of  man ;  who  was  clothed  in  our  humanity, 
complete  and  full-orbed  ;  whose  strings  and  tendrils 
clasped  every  child  of  sorrow ;  who  drew  all  human 
suffering  up  into  Himself,  and  bore  it  upon  his  feel- 
ing as  a  burden  to  be  removed.  Yea,  to  get  a  full 
conception  of  Christ  as  the  Lamb  of  God,  we  must 
remember  that  He  stood  on  a  height  where  all  the 
future  lay  open  before  Him,  so  that  the  woes  and 
sufferings,  not  of  the  time  then  present,  but  of  our 
humanity  down  all  that  opening  future,  were  to  Him 
a  present  reality,  and  lay  as  a  present  burden  upon 
his  soul.  It  was  not  the  sins  of  men  imputed  to 
Him.  No !  It  was  sin,  in  its  nature  and  its  results, 
lying  as  a  burden  on  the  race  of  man,  through  the 
whole  of  which  he  felt  the  drawings  of  the  ties  of 
brotherhood,  and  which  He  drew  up  into  his  great 
Divine  Heart  till  it  broke  under  a  weight  too  heavy 
to  be  borne.  Hence  you  see  the  burden  of  meaning 
in  the  words,    "  God  laid  on   Him  the  iniquities  of 


THE  ATONEMENT.  165 

us,"  —  yours  and  mine,  and  those  of  every  member  of 
this  great  brotherhood  of  mankind.  The  sufferings 
of  the  cross  were  for  Him  of  only  six  hours'  duration, 
whereas  in  most  cases  they  were  a  prolonged  agony  of 
days  and  weeks.  In  the  case  of  our  Saviour,  the 
sufferings  were  short,  because  the  agony  of  heart  and 
mind  had  already  been  so  great  and  prolonged,  that 
the  physical  life  was  well-nigh  drained  to  its  very 
dregs.  Such  was  the  Lamb  of  God  made  an  offering 
for  sin,  to  take  away  the  guilt  of  the  world. 

2.  But  this  truth  leads  us  to  another  and  a  hisrher 
one.  Jesus  as  the  Christ  is  the  expression  of  the 
Divine  Nature,  —  the  Divine  Fatherhood,  in  fact, 
brought  nigh  to  man,  and  openly  revealed.  Here,  as 
nowhere  else,  is  the  Divine  Personality  made  mani- 
fest, the  only  begotten  Son  who  dwells  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Father,  and  brings  Him  forth  to  view.  Hence 
the  sufferings  of  Christ  image  forth  to  us  the  Divine 
sufferings  for  the  sins  of  men.  Compassion  !  Sym- 
pathy !  How  coldly  do  men  talk  of  the  Fatherhood 
of  God,  and  then  proceed  straightway  to  discharge 
the  doctrine  of  all  significance  !  as  if  He  dwelt  apart, 
and  looked  from  a  distance  upon  the  sins  and  suffer- 
ings of  men,  perhaps  sending  prophets  to  them  to 
denounce  punishment,  or  promise  pardon  on  repent- 
ance. The  cross!  Why,  it  symbolizes  the  truth 
that  God  bears  a  cross  in  his  own  feeling,  that  there 
is  a  wounding  and  a  bleeding  of  the  Divine  Love  with 


1 66  THE  ATONEMENT. 

every  rejection  of  its  pleadings  and  every  sin.  And 
hence  we  find  that  this  image  of  sacrifice  and  suffer- 
ing is  carried  up  to  the  Divine  Nature  itself.  And 
so  the  same  evangelist,  when  the  heavens  were 
opened  to  him,  and  God  was  revealed  as  Divinely 
Human,  saw  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  a  Lamb  as  it 
had  been  slain.  Nobody  takes  this  in  the  letter,  or 
believes  that  the  Divine  Nature  can  suffer  physically  ; 
but  to  believe  that  God  is  a  person  and  not  an  insen- 
sate force,  and  that  the  Father  is  imaged  forth  in  the 
Son,  is  to  believe  also  that  the  Divine  Affection  can 
and  must  draw  up  into  itself  the  griefs  and  suffer- 
ings of  our  entire  humanity. 

God  as  revealed  in  the  Christ  is  a  Father  in  the 
midst  of  his  family.  What  would  you  think  of  an 
earthly  father  who  saw  his  family  dying  around  him, 
dying,  too,  by  their  own  fault  and  their  own  guilti- 
ness, and  yet  did  not  suffer  with  them  in  heart,  mind, 
and  soul ;  yea,  whose  life-chords  did  not  run  down 
through  all  their  griefs,  and  draw  them  up  into  his 
own  nature,  as  on  electric  wires  ?  And  such  is  God 
in  his  Fatherhood  ;  not  away  off  in  the  heavens,  but 
immanent  in  all  our  affairs,  hidden  close  beneath  our 
consciousness,  present  by  a  more  still  and  inaudible 
pulsation  in  every  beating  of  our  hearts,  taking  into 
his  own  feeling  the  anguish  that  pierces  ours  ;  and  so 
his  own  Divine  Nature,  that  suffers  with  ours,  is 
imaged  in  the  Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world. 


THE  ATONEMENT.  167 

Do  not  say  that  this  is  a  questioning  of  the  Divine 
Perfections.  The  Divine  Nature  were  not  perfect  if 
it  were  only  stone  and  ice,  like  the  natures  of  some 
men,  that  never  melt  and  flow  in  drops  of  mercy.  It 
is  the  very  height  of  its  perfection  that  brings  out  of 
the  Divine  Fatherhood  a  daily  sacrifice  for  the  sin 
of  the  world,  and  hence  imaged  forth  in  time  by  the 
Lamb  of  God,  made  a  whole  offering  for  human 
redemption. 

Such,  then,  is  the  Christ  as  a  sacrifice;  and  such  is 
the  truth  which  the  sacrifice  represents,  leading  us 
upward  into  the  wealth  of  the  Divine  Nature  itself, 
and  the  very  heart  of  the  Divine  Mercy. 

3.  But  we  come  to  our  third  and  practical  point, 
where  the  subject  bears  directly  upon  us,  and  comes 
home  to  each  one  of  us.  What  conditions  does  this 
sacrifice  require  of  us  ? 

It  requires  faith,  —  faith  in  Christ  as  the  Lamb  of 
God,  and  faith  in  that  eternal  and  costly  sacrifice 
which  is  imaged  forth,  as  a  condition  of  seeing  our- 
selves as  we  are,  and  of  seeing  the  nature  and  con- 
sequence of  all  our  disobedience.  Not  till  we  see  the 
burden  of  our  sin  lying  heavy  on  the  Divine  Heart, 
are  we  brought  to  any  thing  worthy  the  name  of 
repentance,  or  to  any  real  atonement  and  reconcilia- 
tion with  God, — not  till  we  see  every  sin  of  ours  as 
a  stab  at  the  Divine  Feeling  itself. 

There  was   a  man   given  over  to  debauchery  and 


1 68  THE  ATONEMENT. 

sin,  from  whose  mind  and  heart  the  threatenings  of 

the  law  and  the  thunders  of  the  pulpit  had  for  years 
rebounded  as  from  casings  of  iron.  But  at  length, 
in  the  depths  of  his 'sin,  the  Holy  Spirit  reached  him 
in  a  form  that  arrested  and  held  him.  A  light  not 
of  earth  seemed  falling  around  his  feet.  He  looked 
up,  and  he  saw  a  Divine  Sufferer  on  his  cross,  though 
that  cross  sent  out  radiations  of  glory;  and  a  voice 
fell  down  upon  his  ear,  "  Have  I  suffered  all  this  for 
you,  and  is  that  the  return  you  make?"  And  the 
man  whom  threatenings  had  never  reached  found  his 
whole  nature  melted  down  in  penitence,  and  fluid  in 
the  Divine  Hand,  and  run  anew  in  heavenly  moulds. 
And  the  impenitent  unbeliever  went  forth  with  a 
heart  throbbing  with  the  love  of  Christ  and  the  love 
of  man,  and  with  a  faith  tongued  with  celestial 
fire.  He  became  one  of  the  flaming  heralds  of  the 
Cross.  Vision,  do  you  say  ?  —  morbid  imagination  ? 
But  morbid  imaginations  never  change  men  from 
morbid  iniquity  to  moral  health  and  a  new  heavenly 
life  ;  whereas  the  Spirit  of  God,  all-searching  and  all 
adaptive,  does  reach  men  in  forms  and  representations 
suited  best  to  their  cases,  and  suited  best  to  bear  in 
the  Sovereign  Grace  upon  the  soul. 

What,  then,  are  the  conditions  which  the  Divine 
Sacrifice  requires  of  us?  Faith,  —  faith  in  God,  not 
as  a  mere  abstraction,  not  as  a  sovereign  who  only 
threatens  you  with  the  punishment  of  hell,  but  as  a 


THE  ATONEMENT.  169 

Being  whose  love  you  wound,  and  whose  mercy  you 
grieve,  with  every  act  of  disobedience.  Never  does  a 
man  see  his  sins  in  their  true  character  till  he  sees 
them  so  opposed  to  the  Divine  Nature  that  in  every 
one  of  them  his  Lord  is  crucified  anew.  Never  will 
the  wrong  done  to  his  brother  appear  to  him  in  its 
true  light  till  he  looks  up,  and  sees  a  Divine  Sufferer 
who  says  to  him,  "  Because  you  have  done  it  unto 
him,  you  have  done  it  unto  me."  Never  is  repentance 
any  thing  but  a  selfish  fright  and  fear  of  punishment, 
never  is  reformation  any  thing  but  an  outward  con- 
formity, till  we  look  up,  and  see  through  our  tears 
the  Lamb  in  the  midst  of  the  throne.  Never  is  the 
Divine  Mercy  any  thing  to  us  but  a  cold  proclamation 
of  pardon,  till  we  receive  it  as  a  Mercy  which  has 
bled  under  wounds  that  we  have  inflicted.  But, 
when  it  is  thus  received,  we  enter  into  the  heart  of 
it ;  and  the  sense  of  forgiveness  is  indescribably  pro- 
found and  tender ;  and  we  enter  into  the  Divine 
meaning,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world." 

And  only  then  do  we  enter  into  such  communion 
with  God,  and  become  so  far  forth  partakers  of  his 
nature,  that  our  faith  in  Him  gives  us  the  heart  of 
flesh,  and  the  morality  and  charity  that  are  filled  with 
the  throbbings  of  his  love.  Paul  worshipped  God  as 
a  Sovereign,  after  the  straitest  and  most  rigid  of 
rituals ;  and  he  was  very  much  like  the  God  he  wor- 


170  THE  ATONEMENT. 

shipped,  hard  and  unrelenting.  But  he  met,  one  day, 
one  who  appeared  out  of  the  bending  heavens,  and 
told  him,  "  I  am  Jesus,  whom  thou  persecutest :  I 
am  the  one  you  are  slaying."  And  the  flint  all 
melted  out  of  him  ;  and  he  became  full  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Lamb  of  God,  and  tender-hearted  as  a  child. 
So  only  God  takes  your  sins  away.  His  promises 
may  bribe  you  into  virtue,  his  punishments  may  keep 
you  from  sinning  with  your  hands  ;  but  only  through 
the  Lamb  of  God  He  will  take  away  your  sins,  melt 
them  clean  out  of  you,  and  make  your  souls  beat 
with  the  throbbings  of  his  own  Divine  Humanity. 

Has  Christianity  come  to  any  of  you  only  as  a  code 
of  rules  and  regulations,  without  laying  a  warm  hand 
upon  your  spiritual  natures  to  mould  them  anew  ? 
Has  sin  appeared  to  you  only  as  an  inconvenience,  or 
as  a  violation  of  social  customs  and  manners  ?  Has 
the  religion  of  Christ  failed  to  stir  your  deepest 
affections,  and  to  move  you  to  a  consecration  to  Him, 
fervent  and  complete  ;  failed  of  giving  you  the  sense 
of  forgiveness  and  peace  that  flows  in  like  a  river, 
clear  and  tranquil  ?  That  must  be,  and  will  be,  unless 
the  doctrine  of  the  Fatherhood  is  something  more 
than  an  empty  platitude,  and  unless  his  Christ,  as  the 
Lamb  of  God,  shall  take  your  sins  away. 


THE    TRINITY. 


Matthew  XXVIII.  19  :  "  Go  ye  therefore,  and  terxh  all  nations,  baptiz- 
ing them  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

1  John,  V.  7:  "  There  are  three  that  bear  record  in  heaven:  the  Father, 
the  Word,  and  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  these  three  are  one.'? 

THIS  text  from  the  first  Epistle  of  John  has  a 
remarkable  history.  A  very  long  controversy 
has  been  held  over  it ;  not  merely  as  to  what  it 
means,  but  as  to  whether  it  has  any  rightful  place  in 
Sacred  Scriptures.  The  final  verdict  by  all  parties 
is,  that  it  is  a  spurious  text,  since  it  is  not  found 
in  any  of  the  early  manuscripts  which  have  any 
authority.  It  does  not  follow,  however,  that  it  is  a 
forgery  ;  and  it  is  hard  to  believe  it  such.  It  came 
into  the  Bible,  I  suppose,  in  this  way  :  Some  early 
copyist  put  it  in  the  margin,  as  a  comment,  or  note 
upon  the  text,  meaning  it  as  a  paraphrase  and  enlarge- 
ment of  what  the  text  had  only  hinted  and  implied. 
Another  copyist  came  along,  and  removed  it  from 
the  margin  into  the  text  itself,  and  embodied  it  there, 
thinking,  perhaps,  that  it  belonged  there  originally, 
and  had  fallen  out,  and  ought  to  be  restored.     And, 


172  THE    TRINITY. 


if  you  read  over  the  whole  passage,  you  will  see  that 
it  does  give  to  the  sense  a  roundness  and  complete- 
ness which  you  miss,  and  see  the  want  of,  when  it  is 
taken  away.  No  doctrine  of  Christianity  is  affected 
by  it ;  for  these  three  terms  are  found  elsewhere,  in 
like  connection  and  relation,  —  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit, 
as  expressing  the  entire  nature  of  the  Godhead.  I 
regard  therefore  the  text  in  John  as  an  early  gloss 
or  commentary,  probably  suggested  by  the  text  in 
Matthew,  and  serving  as  an  illustration.  For,  observe 
how  beautifully  the  one  illustrates  and  complements 
the  other.  Matthew  reports  Jesus  as  saying  to  his 
disciples,  "  Go  and  teach  all  peoples,"  so  I  render 
it,  "  baptizing  [i.e.,  cleansing]  them  by  the  power  of 
the  Father  and  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost.  And 
lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  to  the  end  of  time."  But 
lest  any  one  should  fall  into  the  mistake  of  thinking 
that  these  were  three  persons,  or  three  Gods,  the  text 
in  John  says  they  are  three  forms  of  attestation  of 
one  God :  "  There  are  three  that  bear  witness  in 
heaven  :  the  Father,  the  Word,  and  the  Holy  Gliost ; 
and  these  three  are  one  ; "  so  giving  us  the  concep- 
tion of  the  Godhead  in  his  undivided  personality. 

But  a  subject  of  most  profound  interest  here  opens 
upon  us.  This  meaning  certainly  unfolds  itself  from 
both  passages,  that,  in  order  to  have  any  living  expe- 
rience of  the  wealth  of  the  Divine  Nature,  you  must 
know    God   in  a  threefold   sense.     You  must    know 


THE    TRINITY.  173 


Him  as  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  Nay,  you  have 
no  baptism,  no  unction  from  Him,  no  inward  cleans- 
ing, —  for  that  is  what  baptism  signifies,  —  unless 
you  know  Him  in  his  threefold  power  as  Father, 
Son,  and  Spirit.  How  constantly  do  we  find  this 
truth  brought  out  all  through  the  New  Testament ! 
It  is  not  enough,  Christ  tells  us,  to  believe  in  the 
Father.  "  He  that  believeth  not  on  the  Son  shall 
not  see  life;  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him." 
Nor  yet,  again,  is  this  enough.  "  I  will  send  the  Com- 
forter," He  says,  sometimes  rendered  Helper.  "  He 
shall  convict,  convince,  bring  all  I  have  spoken  to 
your  remembrance,  take  of  mine  and  show  it  to  you, 
and  show  you  things  to  come."  What,  then,  are  these 
three  grand  essentials  of  the  gospel,  without  all  of 
which  our  Christian  experience  is  lame,  halting,  and 
defective,  but  all  of  which  together  reveal  the  God- 
head in  the  fulness  of  his  perfections  and  the  riches 
of  his  grace  ?  Let  us  give  our  attention  to  them 
severally. 

1.  When  we  speak  of  God  as  our  Father,  we  mean 
specially  God  as  the  universal,  all-begetting,  and 
omnipotent  Love.  It  is  not  by  any  means  a  word 
which  exhausts  the  full  meaning  of  Deity,  or  the  full 
power  and  manifestation  of  the  Godhead.  Indeed, 
there  is  no  single  term  that  will  do  this.  "  Father- 
hood "  is  a  word  borrowed  from  our  human  relations, 
which,  however,  very  feebly  represent  it.    It  is  the  all- 


174  THE    TRINITY. 


originating  Love  which  not  only  created  us  at  the 
beginning,  but  which  creates  us  all  the  while,  and 
which  is  transfused  through  all  the  works  of  Nature  ; 
is  within  all  Nature's  laws,  and  working  through  them. 
It  knows  nothing  of  persons.  In  good  men  or  bad 
men,  it  works  on  just  the  same.  Hence  our  Saviour's 
language,  "  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse 
you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
them  that  despitefully  use  you ;  that  you  may  be  chil- 
dren of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  :  for  He 
maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good, 
and  sendeth  his  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust." 
Hence,  again,  He  tells  the  Jews,  when  they  charged 
Him  with  working  miracles  on  the  Sabbath,  "  My 
Father  worketh  continuously,  and  so  do  I."  He 
keeps  on  Sabbath  days  just  the  same.  The  sun  does 
not  then  stop  shining,  nor  the  grass  stop  growing, 
nor  the  flowers  stop  blooming.  And  you  may  go  out 
under  the  open  heavens,  amid  the  universal  tranquil- 
lity. If  you  do  any  deed  of  darkness  there,  or  speak 
out  words  of  blasphemy,  the  sun  will  not  stop  shin- 
ing, nor  the  earth  stop  blooming,  nor  the  breezes 
stop  whispering,  nor  will  any  thunderbolt  drop  down 
upon  your  head.  Say  what  you  will,  do  what  you 
will,  the  omnipresent  Love  answers  back  to  you  in 
smiles.  The  Fatherhood  of  God  is  that  which 
Wordsworth  drank  in  and  described  :  — 


THE    TRINITY.  175 


"  Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean,  and  the  breathing  air, 
And  the  blue  sky.  and  in  the  mind  of  man  ; 
A  motion  and  a  spirit  which  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things." 

Or,  as  Paul  puts  it,  "  It  is  above  all,  and  through  all, 
and  in  you  all ;  "  and,  "  all  in  all." 

And  hence  the  Fatherhood  of  God  is  not  specially 
a  Christian  doctrine.  Long  before  Christ  came,  the 
Greeks  called  God  the  universal  Father ;  and  the 
Romans  copied  them  and  followed  them,  for  Jupiter 
means  God  the  Father,  all-embracing,  all-pervading, 
like  the  ethers  which  we  breathe.  No  people  were 
ever  more  keenly  alive  than  the  Greeks  to  the  omni- 
present Love  which  originated  Nature,  and  which  so 
breathes  through  it  as  to  make  the  Cosmos  musical 
in  its  harmonies,  and  tremulous  in  its  spirit  of  beauty. 

Well,  why  is  not  this  enough,  and  what  do  we  want 
more  ?  Why,  it  is  enough  for  a  while,  and  so  long  as 
the  surface  of  our  natures  only,  and  the  surface  of 
universal  nature,  has  come  to  our  knowledge.  But, 
in  some  hour  of  self-revelation,  the  soul  within  you 
has  been  stirred  to  its  depths,  and  cries  out  for  a 
personal  communion  and  a  personal  love,  such  as  no 
human  love  can  satisfy,  and  such  as  nature  has  not 
given  you.  You  go  out  and  seek  for  this  communion 
with  the  universal  Father.     You  pray  into  universal 


176  THE    TRINITY. 


space ;  and  your  voice  comes  back  in  lonely  echoes,  or 
in  the  whispering  breeze,  which  whispers  just  the 
same  whether  you  pray  or  not.  Or,  there  is  the  bur- 
den of  sin  and  guiltiness  that  lies  hard  and  heavy 
upon  the  spirit ;  you  want  it  rolled  off ;  and  you  pray 
to  the  universal  Father  to  clear  it  away,  and  to  bring 
into  the  wounded  mind  a  sense  of  forgiveness,  atone- 
ment, and  peace.  And  still  the  prayer  goes  up,  and 
comes  back  in  echoes, — 

"  I  cannot  find  Thee :  still  on  restless  pinion 

My  spirit  beats  the  void  where  Thou  dost  dwell ; 
I  wander  lost  through  all  thy  vast  dominion, 
And  shrink  beneath  thy  light  ineffable." 

"  I  cannot  find  Thee."  Or,  again,  some  friend  has 
been  stricken  at  your  side,  —  some  one  whose  heart 
was  so  knit  with  yours  that  they  both  made  but  one 
heart,  —  and  he  passes  away  from  your  sight,  and  dis- 
solves back  into  universal  nature ;  and  you  plant  with- 
ering flowers  above  him,  to  represent  too  well  the 
human  flower  that  turns  to  dust  below.  And  you  try 
to  follow  his  spirit  where  it  vanished  away  in  the 
dark.  You  knock  at  the  gates  of  death  ;  but  they  give 
back  only  a  hollow  sound.  You  shout  through  them 
after  your  friend ;  but  there  is  no  answer  except  your 
own  voice  coming  back  again.  What,  then,  do  you 
want?  What  do  the  heart  and  mind  both  cry  out 
for?     Why,  it  is   the    Word,   the    Word,  the  Word. 


THE    TRINITY.  177 


Not  your  own  word  given  back  to  you,  not  the  inar- 
ticulate word  of  star  and  breeze,  not  any  man's 
word  that  is  fallible,  not  a  mere  voice  of  com- 
mand as  from  Sinai.  It  is  the  Word  begotten  of 
the  Father,  and  coming  in  tones  more  human  and 
determinate  than  the  tones  of  Nature,  more  human 
than  her  breezes  or  her  thunders.  It  is  the  Word 
made  flesh,  fresh  out  of  the  bosom  of  the  Godhead, 
clothed  in  our  humanity,  and  speaking  its  language, 
and  breathing  its  sympathies,  and  warm  and  tender 
with  its  tones.  "  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any 
time  :  the  only  begotten  Son  that  dwells  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Father,  He  hath  brought  Him  out  to  view." 
The  Word  doubtless  is  in  Nature  also  ;  but  there  it  has 
no  human  tones  nor  sympathies,  and  no  articulation. 
In  the  Word  made  flesh,  God  is  not  only  humanized 
to  our  conceptions,  but  He  speaks  with  us  as  a  man 
talks  with  his  friend.  "  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath 
seen  the  Father;  and  how  sayest  thou,  then,  Show 
us  the  Father  ?  Believest  thou  not  that  I  am  in  the 
Father,  and  the  Father  in  me  ?  The  words  that  I  speak 
unto  you,  I  speak  not  of  myself;  but  the  Father 
that  dwelleth  in  me,  He  cloeth  the  works."  To  the 
question,  Where  have  the  loved  ones  gone  ?  not  only 
comes  back  an  articulate  answer,  but  the  bolts  and 
bars  are  broken  by  Him  who  went  through  and  shat- 
tered them.  Not  only  so  :  God  Himself,  not  in  mate- 
rial Nature,  whose  pulses  have  no  blood  in  them,  but 


1 7$  THE    TRINITY. 


in  humanity  all  divine  and  lovable,  and  thrilling 
towards  us  with  tender  compassion,  and  taking  up  all 
our  sufferings  as  a  burden  on  its  own  feeling,  —  all 
this  comes  in  the  Word  made  flesh,  appealing  to  the 
deepest  love  of  the  heart,  and  seeking  personal  rela- 
tions with  every  one  of  us.  We  appeal  from  nature 
to  the  Word,  with  a  new  song  upon  our  lips. 

On  surface  knowledge  we  have  fed, 

And  missed  the  golden  grain; 
And  now  I  come  to  Thee  for  bread 

To  sate  this  hunger  pain. 

No  gift  I  bring,  nor  knowledge  fine, 

Nor  trophies  of  my  own  : 
I  come  to  lay  my  heart  in  Thine, 

O  Lamb  amid  the  throne  ! 

There  is  unquestionably  a  dispensation  of  law,  in 
which  we  are  governed  by  principles,  ideas,  and  codes 
of  morality.  And  all  this  we  may  have  with  only  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God.  It  is  a 
dispensation  of  truth  ;  and  it  may  have  a  good  deal 
of  truth,  even  all  the  abstract  truths  of  religion,  and 
yet  never  touch  the  deep  well-springs  of  human 
nature.  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  that  there  was  any 
abstract  religious  truth  that  had  not  been  acknowl- 
edged long  before  Christ  came.  The  Fatherhood  of 
God,  immortality  as  a  speculation,  retribution,  heaven 
and  hell,  and  the   whole  moral  code,  were    not  the 


THE    TRINITY.  179 


discoveries  of  Christianity,  but  were  given  in  some 
shape  by  all  the  great  religions  of  the  East.  The 
principles  of  absolute  morality  are  the  same,  all  the 
world  over,  and  all  the  ages  through.  But  an  ab- 
stract code  of  morals,  of  doctrine,  commands  without 
inspiring.  Laws  may  be  good  and  beneficent,  yet 
command  without  inspiring.  Natural  law  is  all  good  ; 
and  the  naturalist  tells  us  how  divine  it  is  working 
around  us  and  through  us.  I  see  all  this,  and 
acknowledge  it.  I  see,  too,  that  the  regulations  of  a 
railroad  may  be  very  good  and  wise  and  beneficent ; 
and  I  know  very  well,  that,  unless  I  keep  within  those 
regulations,  I  shall  very  likely  be  maimed,  or  crushed 
to  death.  And  I  may  believe  that  the  railroad 
directors,  whom  I  have  never  seen,  and  who  hold 
their  sessions  away  off  in  some  committee-room,  are 
very  wise  and  good  people.  And  I  shall  observe  the 
regulations  in  a  mechanical  way,  without  being 
brought  into  any  relations  with  the  directors,  that 
edify  me  much,  intent  only  on  getting  to  my  journey's 
end.  And  so  it  is  in  our  great  journey  of  life,  while 
we  have  only  a  code  of  natural  and  moral  laws,  whose 
Lawgiver  is  away  out  of  sight,  and  keeps  this  stu- 
pendous mechanism  in  motion.  And  we  read  of  a 
man  who  was  rigidly  and  fiercely  conscientious,  while 
the  truths  that  ruled  him  were  ideas  only,  categories 
of  the  understanding,  commandments  graven  on 
tables    of   stone,   or  drawn   out  in  a  Levitical  code. 


180  THE    TRINITY. 


But  afterwards  the  ideas  and  the  categories  and  the 
commandments  were  gathered,  embodied,  and  imper- 
sonated in  a  living  Form  and  the  attributes  of  a 
Divine  Person  who  broke  on  his  sight,  and  whose 
Divine  splendors  and  heavenly  communings  melted 
all  the  iron  out  of  him,  and  made  his  heart  the  well- 
spring  of  a  philanthropy  tender  as  a  mother's  love. 
It  made  all  the  difference  between  Saul  of  Tarsus 
with  his  hardness  of  character,  and  Paul  to  the  Gen- 
tiles with  these  touches  of  softness. 

All  that  the  Father  hath  is  thine  ; 

Thus  does  thy  Word  declare  : 
So  the  full  stream  of  life  Divine 

Flows  from  the  Godhead  there. 

3.  Well,  why  is  not  this  enough  ?  Why  is  not  the 
love  of  Christ  all-sufficient,  —  Christ  as  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Godhead/and  a  revelation  of  the  Great 
Hereafter  ?  Because  that  love  may  be  a  sentiment 
only,  and  it  may  be  nothing  but  a  sentimentality. 
Jesus  as  a  lovely  character  may  be  admired  and  ex- 
tolled as  all-Divine;  and  yet,  if  that  be  all,  we  only 
admire  Him  as  we  do  the  beautiful  nature  that  smiles 
around  us.  And  bad  men  have  paid  their  homage 
to  both,  with  heart  and  character  unchanged.  "  I 
know  men,"  said  the  first  Napoleon  ;  "  and  I  know 
Christ  was  something  more."  But  if  he  did  know  it, 
that  knowledge  did  not  prevent  his  wading  through 


THE    TRIXITY.  1S1 


slaughter  to  a  throne.  And  we  may  know  Christ  as 
a  model  of  perfection  and  of  moral  beauty ;  and  the 
model  may  only  shine  away  before  us,  and  above  us, 
without  melting  down  our  natures  and  moulding 
them  anew.  "  The  Holy  Spirit,"  said  Jesus  to  his 
disciples,  "  is  with  you,  and  shall  be  in  you."  He 
was  with  them,  for  they  saw  the  Holy  Spirit  manifest 
in  his  person  and  works  ;  but  as  yet  He  was  an  out- 
side wonder  and  mystery,  and  only  when  Jesus  went 
away,  and  came  again,  did  they  know  the  nature  of 
his  kingdom,  or  even  understand  his  words.  When 
there  is  not  only  admiration  of  his  character,  but 
submission  to  Him  of  the  will  and  of  the  life,  with  a 
child's  obedience  and  trust,  then  the  Holy  Spirit 
comes.  It  comes  as  an  influx  of  power,  a  forthgoing 
energy  from  God,  in  his  Christ  and  through  Him, 
searching  all  the  man  within,  making  his  sins  stand 
black  in  the  light,  and  in  awful  contrast  with  the 
Divine  Purity  and  Holiness.  The  Holy  Spirit  is  not 
a  sentiment,  but  a  searcher  and  refiner,  melting  the 
heart  into  penitence  first,  and  then  purging  its  guilt 
away.  Not  only  so.  He  quickens  the  whole  spiritual 
nature,  makes  the  memory  deliver  up  the  dead  truths 
that  were  in  it,  and  makes  them  alive.  He  is  the 
Comforter ;  for  through  Him  comes  all  the  communion 
with  Christ  that  we  can  ever  have.  The  Second 
Advent  people  tell  us  that  Christ  is  coming  again  in 
person,  and  that  we  shall  see  Him  in  the  flesh  very 


i,  2  THE    TRIXITY. 


soon.  As  if  that  would  bring  Him  any  nearer  to  us 
spiritually,  merely  looking  upon  his  form,  and  gazing 
upon  his  person.  Only  as  He  sends  the  Holy  Spirit, 
does  He  become  the  Christ  of  consciousness,  con- 
vincing, subduing,  purifying,  and  regenerating,  and 
then  flooding  the  soul  with  his  rivers  of  peace. 

Not  all  people  have  this  that  believe  in  Christ. 
No ;  for  they  may  believe  in  Him  only  as  a  lovely 
model,  and  admire  Him  as  they  admire  pictures  and 
statues.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  this  artistic  religion, 
which  chancres  one's  intellectual  tastes  without  chan- 
ging  the  heart,  character,  and  life.  Not  till  the  Word 
comes  in  the  voice  of  command  and  authority,  and 
you  fall  under  it,  saying,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have 
me  to  do?"  not  till  then  are  you  in  any  state  to 
receive  its  influx  of  power,  that  explores  you,  sifts 
your  pride  and  conceit  out  of  you,  and  creates  you 
anew  in  Christ  Jesus.  Then  the  Holy  Ghost  comes 
in  showers  of  arrowy  light,  first  piercing  and  wound- 
ing, and  then  changing  to  showers  of  forgiving  grace 
and  abounding  love.  Then  He  comes  in  power,  and 
gives  his  people  pentecostal  times.  But  He  strives 
with  us  all  the  while.  I  think  all  of  you  must  have 
known  something  of  his  motions  within  you.  Can 
you  not  remember  an  hour  when  the  conscience  was 
more  tender,  or  some  neglected  truth  was  pricking  at 
the  core  of  the  heart,  or  the  unrest  and  dissatisfaction 
with  mere  selfish  and  godless  living  were  more  intol- 


THE    TRINITY.  183 


erable,  or  when  your  violations  of  the  law  of  neigh- 
borly love  hindered  you  from  sleep,  or  when  the  crav- 
ings of  unsatisfied  affection  made  a  fearful  void  in 
the  soul,  or  when  vanished  smiles  and  household 
voices  hushed  in  death  have  made  the  silence  as  that 
which  follows  the  toll  of  bells,  tolling  through  the 
heart  forever,  or  when  a  coming  eternity,  coming  so 
nigh,  has  folded  you  in  the  shadows  which  it  sends  on 
before,  and  the  questions,  Whence  ?  and  Whither  ? 
have  been  sharp  and  urgent  ?  If  you  can  remember 
such  hours  as  these,  then  the  Spirit  has  had  its  striv- 
ings with  the  conscience.  And  self-surrender  is  the 
sole  condition  of  his  coming  with  power,  till  the 
troubled  mind  and  heart  find  their  eternal  peace 
under  the  brooding  wings  of  the  Holy  Dove. 

Such  is  the  Christian  Trinity,  —  Father,  Son,  and 
Spirit, — clear  of  all  husks  of  theology  which  we  ought 
by  this  time  to  have  done  with,  in  quest  of  the  golden 
grain  which  lies  within  them.  And  if  we  are  to  know 
the  Father,  not  as  a  speculation,  but  as  a  personal 
friend  ;  if  we  would  know  Christ,  not  as  a  barren 
sentiment,  but  as  the  transforming  Word  ;  if  we  are  to 
know  God  as  a  living  experience  that  opens  through 
the  soul  all  the  riches  of  his  nature,  —  we  must  have 
a  baptism  into  the  power  of  the  Father,  and  the  Son, 
and  the  Spirit,  —  all  three;  and  then  the  promise  of 
Christ  will  have  its  blissful  fulfilment,  "  Lo,  I  am  with 


1 84  THE    TRINITY. 


you  alvvay,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  "  If 
any  man  love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words  :  and  my 
Father  will  love  him,  and  we  will  come  and  make  our 
abode  with  him." 


THE    DIVINE    FRIENDSHIPS. 


John  XL  35,36:  "Jesus  wept.     Then  said  the  Jews,  Behold  how  He 
loved  him  !  " 

TWO  ranges  of  fact  appear  in  the  life  of  Jesus, 
seeming,  at  first,  altogether  discrete  and  sepa- 
rate. One  range  is  called  miracle,  or  wonder.  Events 
of  this  class  appear  at  first  like  solitary  peaks,  very 
lofty,  and  mingling  with  the  sky  ;  and  on  them  Jesus 
is  lifted  away  from  us,  away  from  all  our  home-life 
and  every-day  experience.  Hence  it  is  the  peculiarity 
of  one  school  of  criticism  to  take  all  this  range  out 
from  the  New  Testament  history,  as  unreal  and  un- 
historic,  and  belonging  only  to  the  category  of  myth 
and  fable.  The  birth  of  Jesus  ;  his  power  over  dis- 
eases ;  over  the  elements,  such  as  storms  and  waves ; 
over  the  dead,  who  rise  to  life  again  at  his  word  ; 
over  the  grave  itself,  which  had  no  power  to  retain 
Him,  —  these  are  taken  out  as  being  fabulous  and  un- 
real, and  the  additions  of  a  later  age.  However,  as 
these  exceptional  facts  are  examined  and  more  famil- 
iarly apprehended,  we  find  they  have  this  most  remark- 
able peculiarity :  they  cease  to  be  exceptional,  or  to 


1 86  THE  DIVINE  FRIENDSHIPS. 

stand  forth  as  isolated  history.  They  are  woven  in 
with  other  facts  and  other  history ;  with  the  home- 
life  of  Palestine,  by  threads  so  fine  and  so  tender, 
that,  if  you  take  them  out,  you  draw  every  thing 
along  with  them,  yea,  whole  tracts  and  provinces  of 
experience  which  are  abloom  with  the  sweetest  every- 
day virtues,  and  filled  with  the  very  fragrance  of 
social  and  domestic  love  ;  and  you  find  there  is  no 
Christ  left,  and  no  history  left,  but  in  the  place 
thereof  only  a  gaping  vacuity  for  the  Christian  ages 
to  date  from.  When  you  stand  here,  and  look  off 
through  a  clear  atmosphere,  you  see  Wachuset  and 
Monadnock,  and  their  brother  hills,  standing  blue 
against  the  sky.  Some  child,  perhaps,  would  think 
they  are  not  mountains  at  all,  but  only  clouds  that 
hang  in  air.  But  travel  on  towards  them,  and  you 
pass  through  green  fields,  crops  of  grain,  slopes  that 
rise  in  gentle  gradation ;  the  blue  tinge  fades  out,  and 
in  place  thereof  there  is  waving  and  fluttering  foliage  ; 
and  when  you  get  to  the  top  you  cannot  tell  where 
the  mountain  began,  and  where  the  plain  ended,  with 
such  gentle  undulations  does  it  trend  off  into  smaller 
hills,  and  the  smaller  hills  into  the  plains  and  valleys. 
Now,  it  is  just  so  with  those  events  in  the  life  of 
Jesus  which  we  call  his  "  mighty  works."  They  are 
made  up  of  a  great  many  works,  because  so  much  of 
our  common  life  runs  into  them,  and  fills  them  out 
with   the   sweetness   of   humanity.      He   healed    the 


THE   DIVINE  FRIENDSHIPS.  187 

sick  ;  but  how  did  He  heal  them  ?  Why,  by  drawing 
them  up  into  the  great  heart  of  his  love,  and  thence 
sending  thrills  of  life  into  them  that  went  down  into 
their  physical  frames,  and  made  even  the  cripple  to 
leap  for  joy.  He  raised  the  dead  ;  but  how  did  He 
raise  them  ?  Why,  by  holding  the  immortal  spirit 
within  his  own  Divine  sympathies,  so  that  the  body, 
which  had  been  the  spirit's  dwelling-place,  found  its 
frozen  currents  to  melt  and  start  anew,  as  the  warmed 
and.  invigorated  spirit  revived  within  it.  Hence  you 
find  that  it  was  not  power  exercised  arbitrarily,  but 
power  threaded  with  the  finest  nerves  of  sensibility  ; 
as  when  we  are  told  He  raised  the  young  man,  the 
only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  a  widow,  He  helped 
him  from  the  bier,  and  handed  him  to  his  mother, 
making  the  miracle  more  significant  in  the  manner 
of  it  than  the  mere  fact  of  it,  by  those  Divine  cour- 
tesies which  were  fragrant  with  his  benignity  and 
grace. 

There  is  a  notion  about  the  miracles  of  Christ 
which  make  them  not  his  works,  but  arbitrary  inter- 
positions of  God's  power,  something  adjoined  to  Him 
as  proofs  of  the  truth  He  was  to  utter ;  as  if  He 
should  say,  "  See  !  I  am  going  to  announce  a  great 
truth,  and  to  show  you  that  it  comes  from  God.  See 
how  I  can  heal  this  cripple ;  or  see  how  I  can  still 
the  waves  ;  or  see  how  I  can  raise  this  dead  man  to 
life  !     See  how  I  can  do  these  wonderful  things  !     Do 


1 88  THE  DIVINE  FRIENDSHIPS. 

you  think  that  God  would  have  given  such  physical 
power  as  this  to  a  man  whose  words  were  not  to  be 
credited  and  received  ? "  I  am  afraid  there  is  an  old 
Unitarianism  which  still  clings  to  these  mechanical 
theories  of  the  works  of  Jesus,  because  afraid  to 
acknowledge  his  essential  and  intrinsic  Divinity. 

We  are  going  to  contemplate  this  morning  the 
miracle  at  Bethany  not  as  a  mere  manifestation  of 
power,  but  as  a  revelation  of  life  and  character ; 
not  as  an  arbitrary  interposition  of  God,  but  as 
the  natural  and  spontaneous  forthgoing  of  the  mind 
and  heart  of  Jesus.  And  having  contemplated  the 
miracle  as  a  revelation  of  life  and  character,  we  will 
then  ascend  to  the  grander  and  more  general  doc- 
trines of  Christianity,  which  are  shadowed  forth,  from 
the  resurrection  scene  at  Bethany,  to  the  general 
resurrection  of  the  last  day. 

I.  First  look  at  the  connections  and  environments, 
which  are  a  part  of  the  miracle,  in  fact,  and  are  as 
full  of  its  spirit  as  they  can  hold. 

Observe  what  a  whole  group  of  characters  stand 
out  individualized  and  photographed  in  the  light  of 
this  central  fact  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus.  There 
are  four  persons  who  specially  appear  in  it  with  mar- 
vellous distinctness,  and  so  drawn  to  the  life,  that  we 
know  the  whole  scene  must  be  real.  These  are  Laz- 
arus, the  two  sisters,  and  Judas  Iscariot.  We  are 
accustomed  so  much  to  speak  of  the  philanthropy  of 


THE  DIVINE  FRIENDSHIPS.  189 

Jesus,  of  his  mission  to  the  race,  that  I  fear  we  miss 
those  interior  friendships  which  give  us  the  sweetest 
shadings  of  moral  beauty,  and  the  gentlest  revealings 
of  his  Divinity,  and  so  we  fail  to  see  what  Christianity 
does  for  the  private  and  personal  relations  of  human 
life.  Even  the  first  three  evangelists  understand  this 
very  imperfectly ;  and  not  till  John  comes  along,  and 
supplements  them,  do  we  see  Jesus  in  those  Divine 
friendships  into  whose  spirit  John  so  largely  entered. 
There  was  a  woman,  say  Mark  and  Luke  rather  awk- 
wardly, who  came  when  Jesus  and  the  twelve  were 
reclining  at  meat,  and  poured  a  box  of  precious  oint- 
ment over  the  head  of  Jesus  ;  and  the  disciples  re- 
buked the  woman  for  the  needless  waste.  Open 
John,  and  compare  notes,  and  you  get  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  the  scene,  and  the  spirit  of  it.  What  the 
woman  really  did,  was  to  lave  the  brow  of  the  weary 
traveller  with  spice-waters ;  take  off  the  worn  sandals 
from  the  lacerated  feet,  and  bathe  them  with  healing 
oil;  and  when  Judas  Iscariot  says,  "This  ought  to 
have  been  sold  for  so  much,  and  put  into  the  money- 
box," Jesus  replies,  "  Let  her  alone :  are  the  offices 
of  personal  affection  worth  nothing  ?  I  tell  you  it  is 
just  such  deeds  as  these  —  not  the  splendid  donations 
and  charities  thrown  from  a  distance  —  that  will 
give  to  my  religion  its  sweetest  flavor ;  yea,  as  the 
fragrance  of  this  ointment  fills  the  room,  they  will 
make  Christianity  fill    the  world  with    its    rich    and 


190  THE  DIVINE   FRIENDSHIPS. 

grateful  odors."  This  woman  was  Mary,  —  that  same 
Mary  who  belonged  to  the  family  group  at  Bethany ; 
and  the  story  gives  us  some  conception  of  those  per- 
sonal ties  whereby  Jesus  drew  all  into  the  great  heart 
of  his  love,  and  thence  sent  out  from  it  life-giving 
streams  that  flowed  into  the  languid  currents  of  dis- 
ease or  the  frozen  channels  of  death,  and  made  them 
start  anew.  In  what  love-light  do  the  sisters  and  the 
brother  stand  out  before  us  !  And  so  we  come  to  the 
resurrection  scene  prepared  to  understand  the  nature 
of  it. 

Bear  in  mind  that  Jesus,  though  twenty-five  miles 
away,  had  held  the  dying  man  to  Himself,  knew  the 
whole  progress  of  the  disease,  through  the  sympathies 
of  his  nature  that  divined  the  whole.  So  He  says, 
"  Lazarus  has  gone  to  sleep,  and  I  am  going  to  wake 
him  up."  The  scene  at  the  tomb  we  are  hardly  let 
into  by  the  common  rendering.  "  He  groaned  in- 
spirit," the  translators  say;  rather  it  is,  He  strug- 
gled with  Himself,  —  He  choked  down  his  emotions  ; 
and  then,  with  a  great  voice,  He  says,  "Lazarus, 
come  forth  !"  great,  that  is,  not  in  its  loudness,  but 
in  its  volume,  because  of  the  fulness  of  the  love  that 
rolled  through  it,  and  found  its  response  in  the  spirit 
of  Lazarus  muffled  there  in  death-robes,  and  called 
back  to  conscious  life.  How  vividly  does  this  scene 
let  us  into  that  province  of  life  where  Christianity  has 
its  special  application,  and  from  which,  sometimes,  it 


THE  DIVINE  FRIENDSHIPS.  191 

is  pushed  clean  out !  There  is  such  a  thing  as  philan- 
thropy so  universal,  that  it  knows  nothing  of  the 
fine  tendrils  of  personal  affection ;  benevolence  so 
mighty  large,  that  the  friendships  of  life  have  no 
place  in  it,  to  keep  it  sweet  and  warm  ;  reformers  so 
bent  on  saving  whole  races  of  men,  as  to  become 
sour  and  hard  towards  the  individuals  that  nestle 
close  beside  them.  Here  is  a  man  who  felt  the  salva- 
tion of  a  world  lying  hard  upon  him,  whose  private 
friendship  had  such  fervency  that  the  dead  came  to 
life  in  the  sphere  of  it ;  and  its  perfume  has  come 
down  the  asfes  as  the  fragrance  of  an  everlasting  rose. 
Talk  about  a  miracle  !  Why,  a  miracle  is  only  the 
central  fact  of  a  whole  congeries,  all  depending  on  it. 
It  is  power  made  searching  and  pervading  and  all- 
knowing,  through  the  sympathies  of  the  heart.  The 
central  fact  and  the  whole  beautiful  environment  de- 
pend each  on  the  other,  with  the  veins  of  truth  run- 
ning through  them  alike ;  just  as  the  earth  and  the 
rocks,  which  are  the  frame-work  of  the  mountain, 
are  one  with  the  verdure  that  clothes  it,  or  the 
flowers  that  crop  out  from  it  and  festoon  its  sides. 

But  we  ascend  from  this  exposition  to  the  grand 
doctrines  of  Christianity.  These  resurrection  scenes, 
in  which  Jesus  appears  as  the  central  figure,  are 
types  and  representations  of  the  final  resurrection 
itself.  "  If  I  be  lifted  up,"  said  he,  "  I  will  draw  all 
men   unto  me," — mark    the  language,   I   will   draw 


192  THE  DIVINE  FRIENDSHIPS. 

them.  "  This  is  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me,  that 
every  one  who  seeth  the  Son,  and  believeth  in  Him, 
may  have  everlasting  life :  and  I  will  raise  him  up  at 
the  last  day."  "  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life : 
and  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead, 
yet  shall  he  live."  Sinking  the  spirit  in  the  letter, 
the  theologians  have  transferred  the  final  resurrection 
scene  to  the  cemeteries.  I  do  not  see  why  ;  for  sup- 
pose these  same  bodies  are  to  rise  again,  they  are  not 
in  the  graveyards,  —  they  have  gone  into  the  endless 
circulations  of  nature,  have  been  drawn  up,  and 
turned  into  leaf  and  flower  and  forest.  And  why 
should  not  the  resurrection  be  in  groves  and  gar- 
dens, rather  than  among  the  tombs  ?  But  suppose 
such  a  scene  were  possible,  what  would  it  be  ?  Sup- 
pose Jesus  were  to  come  into  the  churchyards  to 
receive  the  dead,  what  would  be  the  nature  of  the 
resurrection  scene  ?  Why,  it  would  not  be  the  Son 
of  man  descending  in  flaming  fire.  It  would  be  the 
resurrection  scene  at  Nain  or  at  Bethany  over  again, 
extended  and  enlarged,  but  the  same  benignant  Form 
in  the  midst  of  it ;  and  his  Spirit  pervading  the  whole. 
It  would  not  be  an  arbitrary  power  over  dead  bodies, 
but  the  power  of  spirit  over  spirit,  and  over  matter 
made  quick  by  its  power  and  by  its  all-healing  and 
searching  sympathies.  The  child  would  be  raised  up 
and  handed  to  the  mother,  the  brother  to  the  sister, 
the  friend  to  the  friend  long  separated,  with,  "  Loose 


THE  DIVINE   FRIENDSHIPS.  193 

him,  and  let  him  go  home  to  his  own."  That  would  be 
Nain  and  Bethany  over  again.  And  what  scenes  in 
all  the  burial  places  !  What  groupings  of  old  friends 
revived,  of  families  coming  together,  whose  dust  had 
been  scattered  abroad  !  What  home  centres  forming 
themselves  anew,  circle  within  circle,  as  over  all  the 
earth,  each  one  rose  and  came  to  his  own,  as  doves 
that  fly  to  their  windows  !  But  the  scene,  which  the 
theologians  have  imagined  as  here  on  earth  and  in 
the  cemeteries,  is  beyond  the  cemeteries,  not  among 
dead  bodies,  but  among  living  souls  who  have  put 
on  immortality. 

"  The  dear  departed  that  have  passed  away 

To  the  still  house  of  death,  leaving  their  own,  — 
The  gray-haired  sire  that  died  in  blessing  thee, 
Mother  or  sweet-lipped  babe,  or  she  who  gave 
Thy  home  the  light  and  bloom  of  Paradise,  — 
They  shall  be  thine  again,  when  thou  shalt  pass 
By  God's  appointment  through  the  shadowy  vale, 
To  reach  the  sunlight  of  the  immortal  hills." 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  means  plainly, 
"  Mine  is  the  power  over  kindred  spirits  to  draw 
them  up  to  me,  by  the  attractions  of  a  friendship 
which  is  the  mightiest  power  in  the  universe." 

You  whose  hearts  are  the  hardest  would  melt  into 
penitence,  if  once  drawn  into  the  sphere  of  a  friend- 
ship like  his.  It  is  not  less  mighty  now  than  it  was 
here    on    the  earth;  not  less    mighty  now  that  the 


194  THE   DIVINE  FRIENDSHIPS. 

Son  of  man  is  lifted  up,  and  become  the  Lamb  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne,  who  leads  his  own  in  green  pas- 
tures and  beside  fountains  of  living  water.  And 
those  who  have  gone  down  in  sin  and  unbelief  may- 
look  up  from  their  sepulchres,  may  still  hear  his 
"  Come  forth  ; "  "  Loose  him,  and  let  him  go  ;  "  for 
there  was  that  other  Mary,  who  had  gone  down  into 
a  worse  sepulchre  than  that  of  Lazarus.     But,  — 

'*  In  the  sky  after  tempest  as  shineth  the  bow, 
In  the  glance  of  the  sunbeam  as  melteth  the  snow, 
He  looked  on  the  lost  one,  her  sins  were  forgiven  ; 
And  Mary  went  forth  in  the  beauty  of  heaven." 


ENCOURAGEMENTS.1 


Hebrews  XII.  i:  "Seeing  we  are  compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud 
of  witnesses,  let  us  renounce  every  weight,  and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset 
us,  and  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 

WE  hear  and  read  a  great  deal  about  the  trials 
and  the  difficulties  of  the  Christian  life ;  and, 
if  we  were  confined  to  this  line  of  thought,  we  should 
get  the  impression  that  the  way  to  heaven  was  a  very 
rugged  and  thorny  one,  and  that  it  was  very  hard 
work  to  be  a  Christian  ;  and  we  might  imagine  that 
there  was  truth  in  the  idea  which  some  have,  that,  if 
you  decline  to  take  the  Christian  name  and  confes- 
sion, you  will  have  indulgences  and  pleasures,  and  a 
sort  of  freedom  which  Christians  must  renounce,  and 
a  right  to  some  practices  of  doubtful  morality,  without 
being  criticised.  I  propose  to  speak  this  morning  of 
the  encouragements  and  incitements  of  the  Christian 
course ;  and  we  begin  with  this  figure  of  the  writer  to 
the  Hebrews,  which  represents  it.     It  is  drawn  from 

1  The  manuscript  of  this  sermon  bears  the  date  of  October,  1874  i  an^  it  is 
believed  to  be  the  last  sermon  written  and  preached  by  Mr.  Sears.  The  short 
and  incomplete  sermon  printed  with  the  memorial  discourse  of  Dr.  Chandler 
Robbins  was  never  delivered  by  its  author. 


EN  CO  URA  GEM  EN  TS. 


the  Greek  stadium,  or  race-course,  where  the  select- 
est  portion  of  all  Greece  assembled  once  in  four 
years,  and  where  picked  men  of  the  most  perfect 
physical  development  tried  their  skill  in  running  for 
the  prize.  They  trained  themselves  for  the  contest. 
They  laid  aside  every  weight ;  that  is  to  say,  any  gar- 
ments that  cumbered  the  most  swift  and  easy  motion. 
Long  rows  of  spectators  lined  the  stadium  on  either 
side,  and  clapped  their  hands  in  acclamation  for  their 
favorite  hero,  when  he  left  others  behind  him  in  the 
race.  Even  so,  —  this  is  the  doctrine  of  the  text,  —  our 
life  here  on  the  earth  is  a  race-course.  Birth  is  the 
starting-place,  and  death  is  the  goal;  and  just  beyond 
sits  the  judge  who  awards  the  prize  of  victory;  and 
the  spectators  are  the  innumerable  company  who  have 
passed  into  the  heavens,  but  who  bend  over  us  and 
around  us,  to  cheer  us  on  to  victory.  The  apostle. has 
just  enumerated  a  long  train  of  martyrs,  at  the  head 
of  whom  is  Jesus,  the  Mediator  of  the  New  Covenant. 
So  august  is  the  humblest  Christian  life,  and  so  great 
the  prize  it  wins,  that  its  success  sends  thrills  of  accla- 
mation into  the  heavens  themselves.  Dropping  the 
figure,  and  coming  to  the  thought  that  is  under  it,  — 
a  Christian  course  has  incitements  and  encourage- 
ments which  belong  to  none  other;  and  now  let  us 
see  what  they  are. 

The  grand  distinction  between  a  life  heartily  and 
confessedly  Christian,  and  one  which  is  not,  I  take  to 


ENCOURAGEMENTS.  197 

be  this :  that  the  Christian  course  has  its  crosses  and 
hardships  and  trials,  so  far  as  they  are  peculiar  to  it, 
at  the  beginning,  and  they  grow  less  and  less  till 
they  disappear.  A  wordly  life,  clearly  pronounced 
such,  has  its  crosses  and  hardships  afterwards.  They 
are  cumulative,  and  stow  heavier  to  the  last.  The 
Christian,  like  Bunyan's  pilgrim,  finds  his  load  grow- 
ing lighter,  till  it  falls  off.  The  worldling  finds  his 
load  grow  heavier,  till  it  weighs  him  down,  and  he  falls 
under  it  at  the  last.  It  is  like  the  two  travellers 
crossing  the  Alps  from  opposite  sides.  The  one 
who  starts  in  the  Tuscan  vales  goes  at  first  through 
scenery  that  charms  the  senses,  and  under  skies  of 
unparalleled  softness.  All  is  delightful  for  a  while. 
But  he  creeps  along  the  sunny  side  of  the  Alps,  and 
the  air  becomes  cold,  and  the  scenery  grows  barren. 
He  comes  to  the  region  of  eternal  snow,  passes 
over  the  summit  on  the  cold  northern  side :  the 
Italian  scenery  vanishes  from  sight.  He  descends 
without  a  guide,  wanders  through  drifts,  gets  chilled, 
and  finally  drops,  frozen  and  dead,  into  the  chasm  be- 
low.    So  ends  his  journey. 

The  other  traveller  starts  fresh  and  vigorous  on 
the  Switzer  side,  gets  to  the  summit  through  toil  and 
difficulty,  sees  new  prospects  breaking  upon  him 
every  hour,  passes  over  to  the  southern  side,  where 
the  air  grows  balmier,  and  the  fields  grow  greener, 
and   finally  comes  to  the  region   of  Tuscan   beauty, 


198  EN  CO  URA  GEMENTS. 

where  nature  has  lavished  all  her  charms.  So  ends 
his  journey.  And  this  is  the  Christian  life.  It  does 
begin  with  self-renunciations  and  self-denials  ;  and 
these  undoubtedly  put  crosses  and  restraints  on  the 
lusts  and  passions  of  the  carnal  mind.  It  does  begin 
with  giving  up  self;  and  this  is  always  hard  at  first, 
when  it  is  hearty  and  complete.  It  does  begin  with 
actual  duties  and  endeavors,  which  cross  our  indo- 
lence, and  love  of  ease.  It  does  require  of  us  some- 
times to  stand  up  for  truths  which  are  not  popular, 
and  which  are  even  trampled  under  the  feet  of  the 
crowds.  It  does  require  at  first  self-watch  and  self- 
analysis,  and  a  surrender  to  the  voice  of  God  within, 
kept  clear  and  audible  above  all  the  blandishments 
of  the  world,  and  the  noise  of  the  street.  It  does 
require  of  us  to  climb,  and  not  to  drift.  It  does  re- 
quire of  us  to  gird  up  all  the  loins  of  the  mind,  and 
put  all  its  muscles  on  the  strain,  to  acquire  an  indi- 
vidual faith  which  is  clear  and  sufficing,  and  not  a 
dead  tradition  of  the  elders.  It  does  require  habits 
to  be  formed,  —  habits  of  thinking,  and  habits  of 
praying,  and  habits  of  doing.  But  all  this  done, 
habits  become  a  second  nature ;  and  the  Christian 
life  becomes  not  an  effort  and  a  self-denial,  but  a 
spontaneous  and  eternal  joy  ;  and  the  hills  of  diffi- 
culty smooth  out  into  prospects  green  and  sunny  as 
Tuscan  vineyards. 

Illustrate  this  in  another  way.     A   Christian  life, 


ENCO  URA  GEMENTS.  1 9  9 

heartily  consecrated,  reproduces  itself  in  others. 
Take  the  family  relation  as  an  illustration  of  this. 
Every  family  has  a  sort  of  unity.  As  is  the  head  of 
the  family,  so  will  be  the  spirit  that  fills  the  house, 
and  whose  silent,  pervasive  influence  impresses  and 
educates  all  the  young  life  that  is  in  it.  It  is  very 
seldom  that  those  who  grow  up  in  a  Christian  home, 
and  go  out  from  it,  fall  into  any  of  the  incurable  sins 
and  depravities.  The  Holy  Spirit  loves  most  to  oper- 
ate through  the  church  in  the  house,  and  mould  all 
its  young  life.  And  so  the  Christian  man  sees  his 
own  spirit  reflected  back  more  and  more  from  those 
who  are  near  about  him.  The  vice  and  the  filial 
ingratitude  which  sometimes  imbitter  the  peace  of 
the  household,  are  generally  kept  away  from  the 
faithful  Christian  home,  where  the  children  have  been 
educated  for  the  skies.  So  that  here  again  the  bless- 
ings of  a  Christian  course  are  cumulative.  The 
Christian  lives  more  and  more  in  others  the  longer 
he  lives ;  and  his  path  of  blessing  broadens  and 
brightens  to  the  close.  Not  so  of  the  life  unconsecrat- 
ed.  Not  so  of  a  life  merely  negative  and  worldly.  Not 
so  of  mere  negative  virtues.  They  have  no  warmth 
and  piety  in  them  ;  and  they  are  not  creative,  in  the 
family  or  out  of  it,  of  the  Christian  virtues  and  graces 
which  come  back  in  blessings  along  the  good  man's 
path,  which,  the  longer  he  lives  even  in  this  world, 
brightens    towards    the    perfect    day.     Illustrate    in 


2  oo  .  ENCO  URA  GEMENTS. 

another  way.  The  perfect  Christian  assurance,  only 
comes  through  Christian  living.  There  is  an  assur- 
ance of  immortality,  and  of  its  peace  and  commu- 
nion, not  less  perfect  and  secure  than  the  assurance 
of  the  scientist  pertaining  to  the  facts  of  nature. 
But  this  does  not  come  of  itself.  Its  evidences  are 
cumulative,  beginning:  with  those  that  are  external 
and  historical,  but  supplemented  all  the  while  with 
those  that  are  inward  and  spiritual ;  so  that  the  Chris- 
tian man,  as  he  passes  through  the  probation  of  this 
world,  comes  all  the  while  into  the  clearer  and  warm- 
er sunshine  of  a  higher  one  ;  and  this  heavy  burden 
of  doubt,  doubt,  grows  lighter  till  it  disappears  alto- 
gether. And  then  the  shadow  of  death  no  longer  lies 
upon  his  path ;  and  all  the  burdens  of  life  become 
light  as  summer  air.  For  in  the  assurance  and  fore- 
taste of  the  life  everlasting,  what  is  this  little  span 
of  life,  with  all  its  burdens  and  cares,  and  all  its 
short-lived  pleasures  and  satisfactions  ?  Now  we  can 
demonstrate  intellectually,  by  syllogistic  reasoning, 
by  historical  evidence,  that  there  is  a  God  and  a 
Christ,  and  a  spiritual  world ;  and  while  a  man  is 
working  out  the  problem,  his  understanding  will  see 
that  the  balance  is  on  the  positive  side.  But  his  con- 
clusions will  not  stay  with  him  ;  and  when  he  goes 
about  his  business,  it  will  all  look  like  a  beautiful  dream, 
transcendent  and  unreal.  So  it  has  always  been.  The 
man  of  the  world  begins  with  a  child's  faith  in  God,  in 


ENCO  URA  CEMENTS. 


prayer,  in  immortality.  But  this  is  traditional  and  imi- 
tative. He  may  confirm  it  afterwards,  intellectually, 
by  reading  books,  or  by  thinking  out  his  syllogisms. 
But  the  assurance  grows  less  and  less,  till  finally  the 
balance  comes  down  heavy  on  the  negative  side ;  and, 
as  life  progresses,  the  gathering  darkness  grows  heavier 
and  thicker,  and  sometimes  ends  in  total  night.  Mr. 
Hume  was  a  man  of  pure  moral  life  and  serene  tem- 
per. He  began  with  the  child's  trust,  and  ended  in 
the  philosopher's  doubt  of  every  thing.  And  there 
is  one  passage  in  his  writings,  of  terrible  import ; 
so  terrible,  that  his  publishers  struck  it  out  of  the 
later  editions.  "  I  am  appalled,"  he  says,  "at  the  for- 
lorn solitude  in  which  I  am  placed  by  my  philosophy; 
and  I  begin  to  fancy  myself  in  the  most  deplorable 
condition  imaginable,  environed  in  the  deepest  dark- 
ness." So  it  is  that  the  non-Christian  life  courses 
through  the  evening  twilight  to  the  perfect  night.  So 
it  is  that  the  Christian  life  courses  through  the  morn- 
ing twiligh  to  the  perfect  day.  For  the  doctrines  of 
Christianity  ripen  to  a  perfect  assurance,  by  a  full 
confession  and  practice,  by  working  with  the  Christ, 
and  doing  his  will,  until,  through  a  personal  relation, 
the  eternal  life  is  already  realized.  And  these  are 
the  incitements  and  encouragements  to  the  Christian 
life.  But  I  do  not  mean  the  Christian  life  merely 
formal,  but  one  which  consecrates  all  our  powers  of 
thinking,  feeling,  doing ;  and  in   such  wise  that  we 


202  ENCO  URA  GEM  EN  TS. 

are  willing  to  lose  ourselves  in  the  Christ,  and  the 
work  which  He  does  here  on  the  earth.  If  you 
started  on  the  Switzer  side,  struggling  with  self,  and 
wrestling  with  temptation,  climbing  sometimes  up 
hills  of  ice,  you  are  sure  to  gain  the  summits  where 
the  Divine  scenery  lies  soft  and  sweet  upon  the  soul. 
And  this  is  what  the  apostle  calls  prayer  without 
ceasing.  It  is  when  the  stages  of  doubt  and  denial 
and  temptation  and  conflict  have  all  been  passed  and 
done  with,  when  evil  within  and  without  has  been 
resisted  and  cleared  away,  and  the  peace  of  the 
Divine  reconciliation  is  perennial,  and  we  know  God, 
not  through  blind,  traditionary  belief,  but  through  a 
living  experience ;  and  then  we  join  hands  with  the 
elders  before  the  throne,  and  the  sons  of  God  shout- 
ing for  joy. 


THE  SAXON  AND  THE  NORMAN. 


THE  SAXOX  AND  THE  NORMAN. 


THE  pride  of  ancestry  is  a  sentiment  which  it  is 
quite    safe,    within    certain    limits,    to    indulge. 
Going  back  two  or  three  hundred  years,  you  get  the 
history  of   a  class  of   men   who   founded    churches, 
states,  and  empires,  and  from  whom  modern  civiliza- 
tion borrows  almost  all  its  glories.     From  such  men 
we  have  descended;  and  to  them  most  of  us,  if  we 
take  the   trouble,   can  trace  a  direct   and  unbroken 
lineage.     Even    the    humblest   individuals,  who   sup- 
posed themselves  to  be  nobodies,  will  probably  find, 
if  they  go  back  far  enough,  that  their  line  in  some  of 
its    crossings   and    counter-crossings  runs    into    that 
of  Howards,  Tudors,  Stuarts,  and  Plantagenets ;  and 
that  the  gnarliest  fruit  that  hangs  on  the  most  scrag- 
ged stem  of   their  family-tree  has  some  juices  in  it 
which  coursed  their  way  through  noble  branches  or 
from  a  noble  trunk.     It  will  not  do,  however,  to  run 
this    up    too   far.     These    same   lords,  prelates,   and 
governors  had    their   ancestors    too;  and  when   you 
come  there,  if   you  wish  to  keep  your   family  pride 
intact,    the    best   motto    on   your    escutcheon  would 


206  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 

be,  "  Oh  no,  we  never  mention  them !  "  Through 
these  same  nobles  and  earls,  you  descended  from 
some  sea-pirate  or  Highland  robber ;  and  if  he  was 
not  hung,  the  only  reason  was,  that  there  were  not 
honest  people  enough  to  give  him  his  deserts.  Such, 
if  you  go  far  enough  back,  were  your  ancestors  and 
mine,  —  grim-looking  bandits,  lurking  in  the  Ciinbric 
forests,  living  on  plunder,  eating  horse-flesh  raw,  and 
quaffing  libations  from  human  skulls.  Those  of  us 
at  the  present  day  who  doubt  whether  the  African 
can  be  developed  into  any  thing  respectable,  may 
well  look  here,  and  see  out  of  what  they  themselves 
have  developed. 

This  pride  of  ancestry,  however,  though  liable  to 
its  rebuffs  and  mortifications,  may  be  turned  to  uses 
exceedingly  valuable,  by  giving  us  a  living  interest  in 
the  past.  No  one  knows  himself  very  thoroughly  till 
he  sees  the  stock  out  of  which  he  sprung.  The  in- 
born tastes  and  proclivities  of  ancestry  course  their 
way  downward  through  all  the  generations.  We 
vainly  suppose  that  culture  and  civilization  can 
eradicate  them.  The  innate  life  of  a  stock  or  race 
of  men  is  as  sure  to  re-appear  five,  or  even  ten  gener- 
ations afterwards,  as  in  the  one  that  immediately  fol- 
lows. It  is  the  sap  that  never  loses  its  flavor,  but 
which  enters  into  the  leaves  and  blossoms  of  a 
remote  posterity.  Those  who  have  the  pictures  of 
ancestry   hanging  on  their  walls,  sometimes  observe 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  207 

that  the  likeness  between  father  and  child  is  not  so 
striking*  as  it  is  between  the  child  and  some  ances- 
tral face  that  looks  out  from  a  hoar  antiquity  three 
hundred  years  ago.  Hence  the  study  of  races  not 
only  gives  you  the  clew  for  understanding  the  de- 
velopments of  all  history,  but  for  understanding 
yourself,  —  of  tracing  the  motions  of  that  blood  that 
lifts  the  valves  of  your  own  heart,  and  makes  its  cur- 
rents thrill  along  all  your  veins  and  arteries. 

It  is  sometimes  assumed  by  writers  who  speak 
rather  loosely,  that  our  civilization  is  Anglo-Saxon. 
That  is  one  element ;  but  it  was  not  until  very  recently 
the  ruling  element  in  the  institutions  of  the  United 
States.  There  are  four,  —  the  Anglo-Norman,  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  the  Celtic,  and  the  African.  The  Celtic 
and  the  African,  however,  are  inferior  elements,  and 
under  the  control  of  the  other  two.  The  Norman 
and  the  Saxon  struggle  for  supremacy  :  the  former 
is  more  fierce  and  imperious,  and,  until  quite  recently, 
held  the  ascendant.  New  England,  with  the  places 
it  has  colonized,  is  purely  Saxon  ;  but,  if  you  go 
South,  the  style  of  government,  civilization,  manners, 
social  and  moral  culture,  is  almost  as  purely  Norman  ; 
and  the  conflict  between  these  two,  or  between  the 
ideas  which  they  represent,  is  the  prolonged  strife  of 
one  thousand  years.  In  fact,  English  history  is  little 
else  than  a  record  of  this  conflict ;  and  rightly  to 
discern    these   two  elements,  is  to   get  the  clew  for 


2o3  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN 

understanding  the  strifes,  mutations,  and  prospects 
of  the  modern  civilized  world. 

It  has  been  charged  against  the  Lyceum,  that  it 
demands  what  is  flashy,  superficial,  and  ludicrous  ; 
and  that  one  must  not  import  into  a  popular  lecture 
solid  matter  and  useful  information.  But  I  shall 
venture  on  the  experiment ;  and  I  hope  I  do  not  com- 
pliment your  good  sense  too  much,  when  I  ask  your 
attention,  through  about  half  an  hour  of  my  lecture, 
to  some  groupings  of  facts,  without  which  no  one  can 
understand  the  philosophy  of  English  and  American 
history.  Some  of  these  groupings  do  not  lie  within 
the  range  of  common  reading,  are  not  to  be  found  in 
any  English  books ;  but  their  importance  is  such, 
that  I  promise  your  attention  shall  be  fully  rewarded. 

The  origin  of  the  Saxon,  the  fountain  of  that 
blood  that  flows  through  the  veins  of  New  England, 
and  beats  through  all  your  hearts  to-night,  will  first 
claim  a  moment's  attention.  It  is  telling  us  very 
little,  to  say  that  our  ancestors  came  from  England. 
England  is  composed  of  three  races,  which  have  never 
yet  mixed  their  blood  together  so  as  to  efface  the 
first  lines  of  demarcation.  Society  in  England  is 
made  up  of  three  layers,  piled  one  above  another,  each 
marking  an  epoch  as  distinctly  as  the  rock  strata 
mark  each  a  geological  era.  Of  these  three  layers, 
the  ancient  Briton,  or  Celtic,  lies  at  the  bottom,  and 
makes  the  lowest  cla^s  of  English  population.     The 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  209 


Celts  are  found  throughout  England,  but  they  abound 
most  in  the  western  part,  —  in  Cornwall,  in  Wales, 
and  in  Yorkshire  ;  and  hence  the  peculiar  dialect  of 
those  people.  Above  the  native  Briton,  is  the  Saxon, 
making  up  the  middle  class  of  the  people  of  England, 
—  its  mechanics,  its  smaller  landed  proprietors,  its 
untitled  common  people,  now  pressing  upward,  and 
becoming  largely  represented  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. These  middle  classes  belong  almost  universally 
to  the  dissenting  churches.  Puritanism  came  from 
this  rank,  and  settled  New  England.  This  class  is 
Saxon  through  and  through,  and  imbues  the  English 
mind  with  its  most  distinctive  life,  and  tones  it  with 
its  broad  and  clear  common  sense.  Above  this,  and 
making  the  topmost  layer,  is  the  aristocracy  of  Eng- 
land,—  its  king,  its  nobility,  its  titled  gentry,  and  its 
House  of  Lords.  These  are  purely  Norman,  or  nearly 
so,  — a  people  very  different  in  origin,  characteristics, 
manners,  customs,  temperament,  and  religion.  From 
this  class  our  Southern  States  were  first  colonized. 
These  are  not  dissenters,  but  almost  uniformly  Church 
of  England  men.  And  the  conflicts  in  Church  and 
State  have  been,  to  a  very  great  extent,  the  contest 
of  race  with  race,  or  the  Saxon  against  the  Norman. 
What  they  call  the  Great  Rebellion,  when  the  Parlia- 
ment rose  against  the  lords,  and  beheaded  the  king, 
and  put  Cromwell  in  his  place,  was  simply  the  Saxon 
layer  upheaving  the  Norman,  and  for  a  while  getting 


2io  THE  SAXON  AND    THE   NORM  AX. 


topmost,  but  only  to  subside  again.  The  conflict 
between  prelacy  and  Puritanism,  prolonged  now  as 
the  contest  between  High  Churchism  and  Dissent, 
is  mainly  Anglo-Saxon  life  impinging  against  Anglo- 
Norman.  And  the  conflict  of  our  day,  between 
Southern  chivalry,  so  called,  and  Northern  institu- 
tions and  ideas,  or,  more  properly,  Feudalism  against 
Abolitionism,  is  the  same  thing  over  again,  —  the 
Cavalier  pitted  against  the  Roundhead,  or  the  Norman 
against  the  Saxon.  I  do  not  say  that  no  other 
elements  enter  into  these  antagonisms,  for  there  are 
many  others.  I  say  such  is  their  origin  ;  and  hence 
their  peculiar  style  and  tone  ;  and,  without  this  fact, 
you  lack  the  key  to  all  modern  history,  and  cannot 
understand  the  nature,  or  calculate  the  issue,  of  this 
conflict  of  ages. 

Having  said  enough,  as  I  think,  to  vindicate  the 
importance  of  my  theme,  and  to  show  its  bearings, 
let  me  now  go  back  and  lift  the  veil,  and  show  you 
the  Saxon  and  the  Norman  in  their  native  groves, 
and  before  the  former  was  developed  into  the  Yankee, 
and  the  latter  into  the  Cavalier.  We  shall  see  how 
each  compares  with  the  other,  and  how  each  bears 
onward  the  original  proclivities  of  the  stock  out  of 
which  he  comes. 

Cast  your  eye  upon  the  map  of  Northern  Europe, 
and  search  out  the  peninsula  of  Jutland,  comprising 
now  the  kingdom  of  Denmark.     In  the  neck  of  that 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  211 


peninsula  was  the  land  of  the  Saxons  at  the  time 
when  they  first  emerge  clearly  into  the  light  of  history. 
They  occupied  a  territory  of  about  seventy  miles  in 
length,  and  half  as  many  in  breadth,  stretching 
along  the  western  shore  of  the  neck  of  the  penin- 
sula. This  little  strip  of  land,  with  three  desolate 
islands  off  the  coast,  seems  to  have  been  their  whole 
territory  from  the  first  to  the  sixth  century.  It  was 
less  by  one-half  than  the  territory  of  Massachu- 
setts, and  was  a  region  of  sterility  and  desolation. 
The  strip  along  the  shore  was  made  up  of  sandy 
downs  and  slimy  marshes,  which  the  sea  always 
threatened  to  invade,  and  over  which  the  northern 
winds  shrieked  with  maniac  fury.  Farther  inland 
was  a  range  of  hills  covered  with  forests,  whose  roar, 
in  the  winter  blast,  answered  to  the  roar  of  the 
sea.  On  these  barren  islands,  and  in  those  gloomy 
forests,  the  Saxon  worshipped  his  grim  idols,  some- 
times with  the  horrid  rite  of  human  sacrifice.  There 
he  built  rude  temples  and  habitations  ;  there,  before 
his  bloody  altars,  he  used  the  skulls  of  his  enemies  as 
his  drinking-goblets,  and  poured  out  libations  to  Odin, 
the  All-Father.  All  the  days  of  the  week  he  named 
from  his  gods  ;  and  we  retain  the  names  yet.  Sunday 
is  the  sun's  day  ;  Monday,  the  moon's  day  ;  Wednes- 
day is  Woden's  day,  and  so  on.  From  these  desolate 
abodes  he  issued  forth  to  ravage  and  plunder;  and  in 
all  the  southern  countries   the  word   Saxon  was  syn- 


212  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 

onymous  with  pirate.  His  name  was  a  terror  over  all 
the  seas  and  risers  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  where- 
ever  there  was  a  stream  deep  enough  for  his  boat  to 
make  its  way.  The  more  enemies  he  killed,  the  more 
pleased,  as  he  thought,  were  his  gods ;  and  more 
surely,  after  death,  would  he  be  received  into  the 
Valhalla,  or  the  Hall  of  Odin.  His  form  was  noble; 
his  eyes  blue;  his  cheeks  fair  and  florid;  his  hair 
was  carefully  cultivated,  and  rolled  over  his  shoulders; 
and  a  special  law  was  enacted  which  made  it  penal 
to  pull  the  hair  of  a  Saxon.  The  Romans  were 
astonished  at  finding  so  much  savage  ferocity  under 
such  comely  exterior.  But  his  character,  even  in  this 
savage  state,  had  two  redeeming  traits,  the  pledges  of 
all  his  future  greatness  and  glory.  One  was  his  in- 
domitable perseverance  and  energy.  The  other  was 
his  estimate  of  woman,  contrasting  most  admirably 
with  that  of  the  southern  and  eastern  nations,  —  all 
of  them  enervated  by  lust  or  polygamy,  and  gone 
down  in  its  pollutions.  The  Saxon  regarded  woman 
as  nearest  to  the  Divinity,  and  made  her  the  priestess 
of  his  groves.  Woman's  virtue  was  held  as  Divinity, 
sacred ;  and  woman's  purity  was  kept  whiter  than  the 
snows  of  the  northern  mountains.  If  she  lost  this, 
she  was  hunted  to  death  by  her  own  sex  with  savage 
ferocity.  Here,  in  fact,  was  the  parent  of  all  his 
future  virtues  ;  and  hence  it  was  that  the  Saxon  stock 
mantled  with  health   and    teeming  vigor,  while  the 


THE  SAXOX  AXD    THE  NORMAN 


213 


southern  nations  were  stricken  with  impotence  and 
decay.  Even  the  names  of  the  women  were  musical 
in  sound,  and  beautiful  in  their  significance.  We 
find  Edith,  the  blessed  gift ;  Beage,  the  bracelet ; 
Adelave,  the  noble  wife  ;  Heaberge,  tall  as  a  castle  ; 
ifreda,  the  peace  of  man  ;  Ethelhild,  the  noble 
war-goddess;  Dudda,  the  family  stem;  Golcle,  the 
golden  ;  Deorswythe,  very  dear ;  Deorwyn,  the  pre- 
cious j 

On  those  barren  islands,  what  would  be  the  first 
want  of  the  Saxon  ?  Precisely  what  it  has  alv 
been,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  —  his  neighbor's  land. 
About  the  year  600  he  began  to  go  west, — the  ever- 
lasting propensity  of  the  Yankee.  Casting  his  eye 
over  the  narrow  sea,  into  the  fertile  vales  and  the 
gentle  slopes  of  Britain,  he  thought  it  a  better  coun- 
try than  his  own.  He  emigrated,  —  and  for  the  same 
reason  that  a  Yankee  always  emigrates,  —  for  better 
farms.  He. overran  the  island;  subdued  the  native 
Briton,  whom  he  regarded  much  as  we  do  the  native 
savage  of  America;  drove  him  into  the  west  of 
England,  or  over  into  Ireland ;  took  possession  of  his 
country  ;  became  Christianized,  or  at  least  thought  he 
did ;  and  established  that  state  of  society  whence  to 
this  day  we  derive  our  maxims  of  household  economy 
and  social  justice.  The  right  of  woman  to  hold  prop- 
erty, her  right  to  attend  the  Gemot,  or  assembly  of 
the  people,  the  right  of  the  widow  to  her  dower, — 


2i|  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN 

these  were  pure  Anglo-Saxon  ordinances,  at  a  time 
when  woman  in  Southern  and  Oriental -nations  was 
degraded  into  a  slave  and  a  thing.  The  trial  by  jury, 
the  equal  right  of  inheritance  among  the  children,  the 
Gemot,  or  assembly  of  the  people,  answering  to  our 
town-meetings  and  general  court,  were  composed  of 
both  sexes,  were  Anglo-Saxon  institutions,  and  be- 
came the  imperishable  germs  of  representative  gov- 
ernment and  republican  liberty  for  all  ages.  Thus 
the  Saxon  subdued  the  Briton  or  Celt,  and  estab- 
lished his  ordinances  in  England ;  and  hence  the  first 
and  second  layers  of  English  life  and  society,  —  the 
Briton  or  Celt  at  the  bottom,  and  the  Saxon  top  of 
him. 

The  Saxon  was  to  be  subdued  in  turn,  and  another 
layer  was  to  be  formed  above  him. 

The  story  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  has  been  told  with 
tolerable  fulness  by  Sharon  Turner.  But  I  do  not 
know  of  any  English  history  that  tells  us  much  about 
the  Norman,  which  gives  us  an  adequate  conception 
of  his  origin,  his  character,  and  his  doings,  or  which 
does  him  full  justice  as  an  element  in  English  civili- 
zation. And  yet  we  owe  to  him,  in  the  main,  that 
which  flings  brilliancy  over  the  English  name  and 
annals,  that  which  has  given  to  English  art  its  gor- 
geousncss  and  grandeur,  which  has  inspired  English 
literature  and  eloquence  with  its  highest  fervor,  which 
has  fired  the  English  imagination  with  Orient  splen- 


THE   SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  215 

dor,  which  woke  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  spirit  of  chiv- 
alry and  that  spirit  of  old  romance  which  threw  the 
charms  of  poesy  over  all  the  dusty  ways  of  life. 
The  Saxon  was  intensely  practical :  his  love  was  for 
houses  and  lands,  and  oxen  and  sheep  and  hogs  ;  and 
his  wit  was  quick  at  invention  in  all  things  pertain- 
ing to  the  arts  of  husbandry.  The  Norman  con- 
trived to  get  all  these  out  of  his  serfs  and  slaves, 
while  he  listened  to  the  songs  and  harpings  of  his 
skalds  and  the  stories  of  his  saga-men,  and  cheated 
life  out  of  its  meanness  by  living  in  a  world  of  his 
own  magical  creations. 

Cast  your  eye  again  over  the  map,  and  trace  the 
limits  of  ancient  Scandinavia,  constituting  that  vast 
northern  peninsula  since  known  as  Norway  and 
Sweden.  That  was  the  land  of  the  Norman  when  we 
first  get  a  clear  view  of  him ;  that  is,  from  the  first  to 
the  tenth  century.  His  principal  stronghold  was  the 
coast  of  Norway.  You  are  aware  that  the  Scandina- 
vian mountains  run  nearly  the  whole  length  parallel 
to  the  coast,  their  sides  covered  with  lofty  pines,  their 
tops  gleaming  with  everlasting  snows.  The  shore  is 
thickly  indented  with  bays  and  inlets,  and  off  the 
coast  a  long  row  of  islands  stretches  away  to  the 
polar  sea.  Between  these  islands  and  the  coast,  the 
sea  is  sucked  in  fearful  eddies  and  whirlpools,  and 
always  makes  what  Byron  calls  a  hell  of  waters.  This 
region  of  cold  is  not  without  its  charms  and  its  ro- 


216  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 

mance.  In  the  Ions:  winter  nights  the  northern 
aurora  streams  to  the  stars,  and  turns  midnight  into 
day.  This  aurora  is  characterized  by  Humboldt  as 
the  rt  electric  torrents"  which  always  fill  the  sky  over- 
head with  an  ocean  of  surging  fire.  Summer,  though 
short,  comes  on  without  any  spring,  breaking  in  full 
splendor  from  the  bosom  of  winter,  when  all  things 
storm  into  life  at  once,  —  to-day  a  field  of  snow,  to- 
morrow a  carpet  of  living  green. 

Norway  was  divided  into  twelve  little  kingdoms, 
each  governed  by  a  jarl,  or  petty  sovereign.  There 
were  two  classes  of  population,  —  those  who  lived 
by  land,  and  those  who  lived  by  sea ;  and  hence  two 
classes  of  sovereigns,  —  land-kings  and  sea-kings. 
Under  the  land-kings  were  landed  proprietors,  who 
were  a  sort  of  nobility ;  and  under  these  were  serfs, 
or  slaves,  who  were  attached  to  the  soil,  and  did  all 
its  drudgery,  —  a  state  of  things  very  much  like  that 
lately  existing  in  the  Southern  States,  or  the  West 
India  islands.  The  sea-kings  lived  upon  the  sea, 
and  lived  by  piracy  and  plunder  :  they  never  left  the 
ocean,  but  always  kept  in  their  boats,  bending  to 
their  oars  amid  the  whirlpools,  with  gleams  of  auroral 
light  playing  around  their  icy  forms,  and  glaring 
down  the  hell  of  waters  into  which  they  plunged ; 
and  it  was  their  boast  that  they  never  sought  shelter 
under  a  roof,  and  never  drained  their  drinking-horns 
at  a  cottage  fire.     You  may  well  imagine  that  this 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  217 


mode  of  life  did  not  make  them  effeminate.  The  sea- 
rovers  struck  out  into  the  broad  ocean,  five  hundred 
years  before  Columbus  was  born,  and  as  early  as  the 
ninth  century  discovered  Iceland  and  Greenland,  and 
explored  the  coast  of  North  America  and  New  Eng- 
land, as  far  as  Cape  Cod.  Attached  to  each  of  these 
land-kings  and  sea-kings  was  a  skald,  or  poet-minstrel, 
who  always  attended  the  king  in  battle,  that  he  might 
know  how  to  describe  it,  and  magnify  the  praises  of 
his  master.  In  the  Ions:  winter  nisrhts,  and  under 
the  auroral  sky,  the  skalds  and  the  saga-men  would 
shorten  the  hours  with  lofty-sounding  epics  and  war- 
songs,  and  with  the  long  story  of  the  past ;  so  that 
the  Northern  land  had  a  rich  treasury  of  song  and 
history  handed  down  by  tradition,  a  great  while 
before  a  written  literature  had  any  existence  there. 
Depping  tells  us  many  curious  and  marvellous 
tales  about  a  class  of  men  among  these  Normans, 
whose  race  has  not  yet  become  extinct.  Every  king- 
had  a  set  of  persons  about  him  called  champions, 
whose  function  was  to  swell,  bluster,  pick  quarrels, 
fight  duels,  and  guard  the  king's  person  in  war. 
Sometimes  these  Orlandos  would  get  wrought  up 
to  such  a  pitch  of  frenzy,  that  they  would  attack 
trees  and  rocks  with  the  same  indomitable  bravery 
with  which  Don  Quixote  assailed  the  windmills. 
Depping  tells  us,  too,  that  in  these  fits  of  frenzy  they 
would  eat  fire,  suggesting  to  us  the  origin  of  the  fire- 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 


eaters  of  the  present  day.  Pie  tells  us  of  two  of 
these  champions  who  once  met  in  single  combat, 
and  fought  till  each  killed  the  other ;  and  even  then 
their  chivalry  was  not  satisfied,  for,  tradition  says, 
they  fought  long  after  they  were  dead. 

Among  their  maxims  of  bravery  were  such  as 
these,  —  never  seek  shelter  during  a  tempest ;  never 
stop  to  dress  your  wounds  during  battle;  never  shed 
tears  for  the  death  of  friends  ;  and,  when  your  last 
hour  comes,  be  sure  to  die  laughing.  Mercy  was 
regarded  as  a  crime  :  the  more  blood  a  man  had 
shed,  the  more  magnificent  his  reception  in  the  Hall 
of  Odin. 

We  are  curious  to  know  what  sort  of  women  gave 
birth  to  such  sons  as  these,  and  whether  they  must 
not  have  rocked  their  babies  upon  the  tree-top,  with 
the  northern  blast  for  a  lullaby.  Depping  enlightens 
us  a  little  on  this  point,  telling  us  what  sort  of  women 
they  were,  and  by  what  courtship  they  were  won. 
They,  too,  became  sea-rovers  and  champions  when 
they  took  the  name  of  Virgins  of  the  Shield.  The 
more  lovers  a  Norman  maid  was  able  to  kill  off  in 
single  combat,  the  more  highly  esteemed  was  she  for 
her  accomplishments  and  charms.  We  have  a  curi- 
ous story  of  one  of  these  accomplished  maidens,  a 
champion  and  a  sea-rover.  A  suitor,  more  brave 
than  the  rest,  chased  her  into  the  bay  of  Finland, 
boarded   her  skiff,  met  her  in  desperate  combat,  cleft 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN  2T9 


her  helmet  in  two,  when  she  gave  over,  and  con- 
sidered herself  fairly  wooed  and  won  ;  and  the  histo- 
rian adds,  that  the  conjugal  felicity  and  endearment 
were  more  perfect  and  secure  after  a  courtship  like 
this,  in  which  the  highest  virtues  of  both  parties  had 
been  evolved. 

Not  far  from  the  year  900,  a  revolution  took  place 
in  the  affairs  of  Norway,  from  which  very  important 
consequences  followed,  and  are  following  still.  About 
that  time  Harald  (surnamed  of  the  beautiful  hair), 
one  of  the  twelve  kings  of  Norway,  subdued  all  the 
rest  in  succession,  and  united  the  whole  country 
under  a  single  monarchy.  He  made  the  Scandina- 
vian mountains  his  beacon  summits;  and  if  an  enemy 
approached  by  sea,  the  nearest  peak  flamed  with  light, 
and  flung  the  signal  on  to  the  next,  till  the  whole 
train  was  ablaze  from  the  Naze  to  the  North  Cape, 
and  summoned  every  jarl  to  the  defence  of  the  coun- 
try. Some  of  the  jarls  could  not  endure  the  tyranny 
of  Harald,  and  sought  refuge  in  other  lands.  Iceland 
was  now  colonized,  and  soon  after  Christianized,  and 
became  the  seat  of  learning  and  civilization  at  a  time 
when  all  Europe  lay  in  darkness.  It  gave  birth  to  a 
literature  that  still  exists  in  the  Icelandic,  or  native 
Norman  language,  and  which,  Prof.  Rask  of  Stock- 
holm says,  rivals  in  copiousness,  flexibility,  and 
energy,  every  modern  tongue. 

But  the  most  important  event  of  this  revolution  in 


220  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 

Norway  was  the  settlement  of  Normandy,  in  France. 
Rollo,  a  famous  sea-king  and  pirate,  was  banished 
from  Norway  by  Harald.  He  and  his  fire-eaters,  the 
champions,  took  to  their  ships,  and,  scudding  over  the 
German  sea,  came  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  Seine. 
There  lay  the  province  of  Neustria,  the  most  fair  and 
goodly  portion  of  all  France,  where  the  sunlight  lay 
warm  upon  the  fields,  and  the  grapes  hung  luscious 
upon  the  vines.  The  French  monarchy  had  become 
weak  through  internal  dissensions  and  disorders  ;  and 
so  Rollo  and  his  companions  seized  upon  the  tempt- 
ing prize.  This  Rollo  was  a  worthy  descendant  of 
the  fire-eaters.  He  was  surnamed  The  Walker,  be- 
cause such  was  his  enormous  stature,  that  every 
horse  he  mounted  broke  down  under  him,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  travel  upon  his  feet.  They  adopted  the 
laws,  the  language,  and  the  religion,  of  the  conquered 
province ;  and  the  fierce  sea-king  and  his  fire-eaters 
became  the  cavaliers  of  Normandy,  with  their  vassals 
and  serfs  from  among  the  conquered  people.  At 
this  time  the  language  spoken  in  France  was  the  old 
Latin,  in  its  state  of  transition  to  modern  French. 
In  Northern  France  it  was  still  barbarous,  and  was 
without  a  literature.  The  Norman  adopted  it  as  his 
own ;  and  it  soon  sparkled  with  the  brilliancy  of 
Norman  imagination,  and  discoursed  liquid  music  in 
verse  and  prose.  It  became  the  language  of  romance  ; 
and  the   cavalier  recounted  in   it  his  own  deeds  of 


THE  SAX  OX  A  XI)    THE  NORMAN.  221 


chivalry,  and  the  minstrel  sang  in  it  of  his  lady-love. 
The  skald,  who  had  thundered  his  war-odes  under  the 
ruddy  flames  of  the  northern  aurora,  now  sang  under 
the  suns  of  France,  his  fancy  still  burning  and  spark- 
ling with  its  ancient  fire.  The  descendants  of  Rollo 
and  his  champions  in  Normandy,  somewhat  civilized 
by  Christianity,  became  the  people  whence  the 
brightest  glories  of  chivalry  took  their  rise.  The 
Norman,  too,  had  his  reverence  for  woman  :  but  in 
its  development  and  culture  it  became  very  different 
from  that  of  the  Saxon. 

The  Norman  worshipped  her  because  she  was  a 
fair  lady,  with  her  slaves  waiting  around  her  ;  and 
then,  when  Giant  Grim  came  to  carry  her  off,  it  was 
glorious  to  defend  her,  and  cleave  the  heads  of  forty 
giants  and  Saracens  in  the  fray.  The  Saxon's  ideal 
of  woman  culminated  in  the  mother  and  the  wife, 
who  spread  the  charms  of  home  around  his  fireside. 
That  of  the  Norman  culminated  in  my  lady  of  Castle 
Hall,  for  one  twinkle  of  whose  eye  seven  knights 
had  tilted  seven  days,  and  broke  their  heads  in  the 
tournament.  "  Her  highest  function,"  said  the  Nor- 
man, "is  to  award  the  prize,  amid  cloven  mail  and 
shivered  lances."  "  She  is  in  her  glory,"  said  the 
Saxon,  "  when  at  evening  she  welcomes  me  home 
from  toil,  her  cheeks  made  ruddy  by  the  blaze 
of  the  cottage  fire."  The  first  romances  and  tra- 
gedies were  written  by  the  Normans  in  Normandy; 


222  THE  SAXON  AND    THE   NORMAN. 


and  the  most  splendid  works  of  the  literature 
of  Southern  Europe  were  produced  on  the  models 
which  they  had  originated.  The  Sacred  Tragedies 
—  including  the  passion  play  —  had  their  spirit  first 
awakened  by  the  minstrels  who  sung  in  the  courts 
of  Normandy.  The  most  splendid  style  of  modern 
architecture  is  traceable  to  the  same  origin.  The 
Norman  love  of  magnificence  originated  the  Gothic 
cathedral,  that  glorious  "  hymn  to  God,  sung  in  obe- 
dient stone."  It  is  true,  there  is  no  trace  of  this  in 
the  north,  where,  tossing  on  the  ocean-whirls,  or 
ravaging  the  coast  of  his  neighbor,  by  the  dance  of 
auroral  flames,  the  Northman  thought  little  of  his 
habitation,  for  he  needed  none.  But  once  settled  in 
Normandy,  and  imbibing  Christian  ideas,  his  fervid 
genius  was  not  satisfied  with  the  demure  Saxon  style 
of  houses  and  churches.  He  thought  of  the  grand 
temple  of  nature,  where  Odin  was  worshipped  on  the 
Norwegian  hills,  —  its  myriad  columns  of  lofty  trees 
that  made  high  arches  together,  whose  organ  was 
the  winds  in  their  eternal  roar ;  and  so  the  Gothic 
arch  aspired,  with  its  lofty  windows,  its  clustered 
columns,  its  rows  of  turrets,  its  leaves  of  tracery,  as 
if  his  native  grove  had  turned  to  stone  by  the  splendid 
magic  of  an  enchanter. 

There  is  a  prevailing  idea  that  people  of  southern 
countries  are  naturally  more  hot-blooded  and  fiery, 
while  those    of   the  north  are  phlegmatic  and    cold. 


THE  SAX  OX  AND    THE   NORMAN.  223 

There  is  not  the  least  truth  in  this  notion.  Native 
southern  blood  is  more  likely  to  flow  in  lazy  and 
languid  currents  ;  for  example,  the  ancient  Peruvians 
and  the  Hindoos.  The  Norman  was  more  of  a 
northerner  than  the  Saxon  ;  and,  up  among  his  native 
ice  and  snow,  he  was  the  most  fiery-brained  of  all 
men  that  ever  lived  ;  and  the  Southerner  at  this  day 
owes  his  fire-eating  capacities,  not  to  his  climate,  but 
in  spite  of  it,  and  because  the  blood  still  boils  through 
him  from  his  ancestry  that  came  down  from  the 
northern  pole. 

The  Normans  had  occupied  Normandy  about  one 
hundred  and  seventy  years  when  they  invaded  Eng- 
land. They  now  pass  into  English  history,  with 
which  you  are  all  familiar,  —  or,  if  not,  you  ought  to 
be.  In  io65,  William,  the  fifth  in  descent  from  Rollo 
the  Walker,  invaded  England,  conquered  the  Saxons 
in  the  famous  battle  of  Hastings,  came  to  London 
and  took  possession  of  the  government,  and  distributed 
all  its  important  places  among  the  officers  of  his 
army.  Thus  the  Saxon,  in  his  turn,  was  among  the 
vanquished,  and  saw  an  aristocracy  formed  above 
him.  Thus  the  Norman,  with  his  imperial  will  and 
his  love  of  grandeur,  became  the  upper  layer  of  the 
social  fabric  of  England.  The  building  became  three 
stories  high,  —  the  Briton  at  the  bottom,  the  Saxon 
in  the  middle,  and  the  Norman  at  the  top,  —  alas  for 
the  poor  fellows  who  were  undermost  ! 


224  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN 


Our  Southern  States  were  first  colonized  from  the 
top  layer.  Virginia  was  settled  from  a  colony  formed 
in  London,  made  up  of  noblemen  and  titled  gentry, 
whose  prime  object  was  to  mend  their  worldly  for- 
tunes. There  were  two  classes  of  emigrants,  —  crim- 
inals taken  from  Newgate,  and  called  jail-birds,  who 
were  doomed  to  do  all  the  manual  labor  ;  and  the 
seventh  sons  of  English  gentry,  who  never  labored 
at  all.  The  jail-birds  became  the  serfs  of  the  soil ; 
and  the  gentlemen  became  the  aristocracy  of  Virginia 
and  Maryland.  In  process  of  time,  negroes  took  the 
place  of  the  jail-birds;  and  thus  the  feudalism  of  the 
frozen  plains  of  Norway,  transported  first  to  sunny 
France,  and  thence  to  England,  crossed  over  the  seas, 
and  became  rooted  in  American  soil.  New  England 
was  settled  mainly  from  the  middle  class  of  English 
society,  was  an  offshoot  from  English  Saxondom,  to 
get  relief  from  the  Norman  layer  that  pressed  griev- 
ously and  heavily  upon  it.  "The  sectarian  divisions 
in  England  took  place  almost  exactly  according  to  a 
horizontal  line,  —  the  Norman  above,  and  the  Saxon 
below.  The  Norman  above,  with  his  splendid  cathe- 
drals, his  bishops  in  lawn,  and  his  gorgeous  ritual ; 
in  short,  the  Church  of  England,  reciting  its  grand 
old  liturgy,  and  its  organ  music  resounding  through 
the  arches  and  the  long-drawn  aisles,  like  Norwegian 
winds  through  long  arcades  of  pine-trees.  The  Saxon 
below,    praying    in    naked    conventicles,    protesting 


THE  SAX  OX  AXD    THE  NORM.-  225 

against  mitres  and  lawn  as  the  rags  of  Popery,  crop- 
ping out  in  the  psalm-singing  regiments  of  Cromwell, 
—  those  terrible  image-breakers  who  praised  God 
through  their  noses,  while  they  rabbled  cathedrals, 
and  took  the  pictures  of  saints  as  wadding  for  their 
muskets.  So  it  was,  that  Normandy  and  Saxondom 
came  in  conflict  on  English  soil,  and  were  thence 
transported  beyond  the  main,  to  prolong  in  the  latter 
days,  and  on  American  soil,  this  conflict  of  ages. 

And  with  these  lights  of  history  playing  about  us, 
you  will  not  need  any  explanation  of  the  fact,  that  the 
English  aristocracy  fraternized  with  the  barons  of 
our  Southern  rebellion ;  for,  depend  upon  it,  the 
hatred  of  slavery  by  the  English  Tory  is  the  shal- 
lowest of  all  delusions,  and  against  the  whole  grain 
of  his  nature  and  history.  It  was  not  that  he  misun- 
derstood the  Northern  cause.  He  understood  it  all 
too  well.  He  knew  that  it  was  the  same  cause  that 
unseated  him  from  his  place,  and,  in  the  regiments  of 
Cromwell,  broke  like  a  volcano  through  the  upper 
English  layer.  And  you  will  need  as  little  explana- 
tion of  the  fact  that  the  middle  layer  of  English  life 
beats  with  us  like  the  mighty  throbs  of  one  human 
heart,  that  its  middle  working-classes  could  not  be 
starved  into  sympathy  with  our  slaveholding  rebellion, 
but  echoed  back  the  sentiments  of  Mr.  Bright,  with 
an  enthusiasm  that  shook  Exeter  Hall  like  a  new 
cradle  of  liberty.     They  are  the  same  people  that  we 


226  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN 


are,  —  kith  and  kin  with  us  ;  their  hearts  beat  with 
us  in  '76,  and  through  our  whole  war  of  Indepen- 
dence, and  are  always  moved  by  the  same  electric 
thrills  and  touches. 

The  modern  Yankee  being  of  pure  Saxon  stock, 
the  spirit  of  ancestry  blows  through  him  now  as 
freshly  as  it  did  in  the  Cimbric  forests.  We  educate 
him,  we  Christianize  him,  we  cultivate  him;  but  when 
he  relapses  into  his  inborn  tastes  and  manners,  they 
are  as  sure  to  be  Saxon  as  the  wave  lifted  up  by  the 
gale  is  sure  to  find  its  level  when  the  wind  has  ceased 
to  blow.  The  New  England  man  of  education  and 
culture  uses  two  languages,  —  one  he  writes  and 
speaks  in,  when  he  wishes  to  put  on  the  best  appear- 
ance ;  and  one  he  thinks  and  talks  in,  when  he  relapses 
into  himself.  We  generally  learn  to  think  and  talk 
in  pure  Saxon  ;  for  that  is  the  language  of  the  nur- 
sery. When  we  put  on  airs,  we  talk  French  and 
Roman;  as  the  lady  who  told  her  folks  at  home  that 
she  had  been  reading  a  good  book,  but  next  day,  in 
a  fashionable  and  literary  circle,  she  said  she  had 
perused  a  most  delectable  volume.  The  language  we 
think  in  is  the  cropping  out  of  our  inmost  style  of 
mind  and  emotion  ;  and  the  ancestral  life  of  cen- 
turies sweeps  into  it,  and  inspires  and  prompts  all  its 
inflections  and  tones. 

As  Yankees,  we  only  guess  :  when  we  try  to  show 
our  culture,  we  conjecture.     We  love  and  hate  right 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  227 

heartily  in  Saxon.  When  we  get  Romanized,  we 
show  onr  affection  and  aversion.  Mr.  Emerson,  by 
using  a  Saxon  word  instead  of  a  Roman,  branded 
forever  an  odious  measure  of  the  Democratic  party. 
Instead  of  saying  politely,  "  It  will  bring  the  country 
into  bad  odor,"  he  said,  it  will  make  the  very  name 
of  American  "  stink  to  the  world ; "  and  people  held 
their  noses  from  it,  as  if  they  snuffed  a  tainted  breeze. 

You  are  all  familiar  with  a  certain  New  England 
classic  called  "  Mother  Goose."  But  in  the  interior 
of  New  England  you  will  seldom  find  any  such  book ; 
but  you  will  find  the  songs  handed  down  by  tradition, 
the  unwritten  lore  of  every  household,  just  as  Homer 
was  preserved  by  the  rhapsodists  of  Greece.  And  if 
you  have  ever  wondered  at  the  strange  fascination 
which  the  stories  have  over  the  children,  you  will 
cease  to  marvel  when  you  find  that  the  words  are 
nearly  all  Saxon,  and  by  their  very  sound  touch  the 
chord  of  ancestral  life  that  vibrates  downward  forever. 
Touching  that  chord,  the  sound  alone  wakes  whole 
trains  of  thought  and  feeling  and  imagery  and  fan- 
tastic association  ;  and  so  all  sorts  of  odd  people 
throng  the  air  and  the  playground. 

If  I  were  to  go  into  the  nursery,  and  undertake  to 
draw  little  folks  around  me  with  a  story,  I  might  tell 
them  that  two  persons,  Marcus  and  Portia,  ascended 
an  acclivity,  to  transport  a  vessel  of  water,  but*Mar- 
cus   lost   his  equilibrium  and  fell,  and   fractured  his 


228  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NOR  MAX. 


cranium,  and  his  sister  experienced  a  similar  catas- 
trophe, and  I  do  not  think  I  should  awaken  any 
special  interest  in  Marcus  and  Portia,  even  if  the 
little  people  understood  me  perfectly  well.  But  if  I 
tell  them,  — 

"  Jack  and  Gill  went  up  the  hill,  to  fetch  a  pail  of  water  : 
Jack  fell  clown  and  cracked  his  crown,  and  Gill  came  tumbling 
after,"  — 

I  immediately  clothe  my  hero  and  heroine  with 
strange  interest.  Jack  and  Gill  become  famous 
people  at  once,  for  no  other  reason  than  that,  in 
the  latter  case,  I  use  the  very  language  the  children 
think,  feel,  laugh,  and  cry  in. 

There  is  yet  another  method  of  ascertaining,  with 
a  good  deal  of  certainty,  what  are  the  hereditary 
tendencies  of  a  people ;  and  that  is,  by  taking  note 
of  its  vulgar  words.  There  is  a  tendency  in  all  of  us 
to  relapse  into  barbarism,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
we  belong  to  a  stock  which  was  lifted  originally  out 
of  barbarism ;  and  we  are  only  held  from  it  all  the 
while  by  culture  and  Christianity,  just  as  the  waters 
of  Holland  are  forced  up  out  of  their  beds  of  slough 
by  a  system  of  pumps  and  dikes,  and  kept  on  a 
higher  level,  and  kept  clean.  Let  the  dikes  break 
away,  and  the  waters  go  back  with  fearful  surgings 
into  the  mire.  Civilization  and  Christianity  have 
lifted  us  up  and  diked  us  on  a  higher  level ;  but  in 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN  229 

the  vulgarisms  of  the  language,  we  look  down  into  a 
fearful  Saxon  slough,  into  which  we  should  be  sure 
to  plunge  if  the  dikes  should  give  way.  The  vulgar- 
isms of  the  language,  as  spoken  in  New  England,  are 
almost  all  Saxon  idioms  ;  and  those  who  use  them 
habitually  are  the  native  barbarians,  —  just  such  men 
as  lived  in  Jutland.  We  will  not  go  down  far  into  that 
bathos.  But  go  now  among  the  rustic  population, 
and  you  do  not  find  men  of  talent,  you  find  men  of 
gumption  ;  you  do  not  find  a  man  uncultivated,  you 
find  him  a  lout  and  a  loon;  boys  do  not  get  cor- 
rected at  school,  they  always  get  licked ;  and  those 
who  made  music  of  an  evening  at  the  town-hall  did 
not  give  a  concert,  but  tooted  on  their  flutes,  and 
scraped  their  cat-gut ;  and  even  the  violin,  up  in  the 
village  choir,  I  have  heard  called  "  the  Lord's  fiddle." 
When  men  become  very  angry,  and  curse  and  swear, 
they  always  do  it  in  pure  Saxon,  because  then 
they  are  right  earnest,  and  use  their  native  tongue. 
When  a  man's  indignation  is  factitious,  and  a  mere 
show-off  of  oratory,  he  becomes  Roman,  and  he  calls 
the  thing  he  hates  execrable  and  diabolical ;  but 
when  he  gets  right  mad,  and  relapses  into  his 
native  Saxon  barbarism,  he  calls  it  damnable  and 
devilish. 

But,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  not  all.  The 
Saxon  language,  in  its  rudest  state,  was  not  made  up 
chiefly  of  what  we  call  vulgar  words ;  for  the  good 


230  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN 

reason  that  Saxon  life,  when  the  most    savage,  had 
some  qualities  out  of  which  the  sweetest  virtues  and 
the   most  heavenly  graces  have  blossomed  forth.     I 
have  said  that  the  most  distinguishing  characteristic 
of  the  Saxon,  even  in  his  worst  state  of  heathenism, 
was   reverence  for  woman ;  that  he  looked  upon  her 
as    a   superior   being,  and    made    her   not   only  the 
priestess    of   his    shrines,    but   the    Divinity   of    his 
groves.     Her  virtue  was  more    sacred    than   the   in- 
most   rites  of  the   Hall  of    Odin  ;    her   purity  more 
awful    than    the    snows    on    the    Scandinavian    hills. 
Before    Christianity    came    to    them    (long     before 
chivalry    had   its    rise    among    the    Normans),    this 
reverence  for  woman  was  the  prominent  feature  of 
Saxon  barbarism,  and  made  it  the  sure  ground  for 
civilization  to  build  upon   after  Southern  Europe  lay 
reeking  in  its    own    corruption.     This   sentiment  is 
the  one  in  which  all  the  home  virtues  take  root  and 
flourish.     Hence  in  no  race  is  the  home  instinct  so 
strong  and  healthful,  or  family  relations  so  pure  ;  and 
hence  the  Saxon's    everlasting  propensity  to   get  a 
piece  of  land,  build  a  house  on  it,  and  put  a  wife  into 
the  house,  and  cover  all  the  fields  about  it  with  home 
memories,  instead  of  owning  his  harem,  or  his  plan- 
tation of  slaves,  or  leading  a  nomadic  life,  and  never 
fixing   his   abode.     And   hence    you    sec   why  those 
words  which  strike  deepest  into  our  hearts,  and  touch 
the   place    of    tears,  are   all    Saxon  words;    why  we 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  231 

laugh  and  cry  in  Saxon,  but  -do  all  our  shamming  in 
Greek,  Latin,  and  French.  The  names  which  grow 
out  of  pure  and  reverent  love  between  man  and 
woman,  and  the  relations  it  creates,  are  all  Saxon 
names,  —  husband,  wife,  home,  homestead,  father, 
mother,  son,  daughter,  child,  brother,  sister,  lover, 
betrothed.  These  are  Saxon  words  sacredly  appro- 
priated, because  the  words  which  answer  to  these 
in  Greek,  Latin,  and  Oriental  languages  have  been 
soiled  and  degraded  in  the  corruptions  of  an  effete 
civilization.  For  instance,  to  say  in  good  Saxon,  that 
a  person  has  a  loving  disposition,  is  to  pay  him  a 
compliment;  but  to  say  in  Roman  he  has  an  amorous 
disposition,  is  a  compliment  you  would  gladly  avoid. 
Conjugal,  a  Roman  word,  means  yoked  together; 
going  down  for  its  image  to  the  cattle  of  the  field. 
The  Saxon  word  wife,  means  one  that  weaves  (weave, 
woof,  wife),  giving  you  the  image  of  woman  at  the 
loom,  filling  the  ear  with  the  grateful  hum  of  home 
industry,  and  the  mind  with  the  charm  of  home  com- 
forts and  associations.  (And,  by  the  way,  I  never 
could  admire  the  taste  of  a  certain  class  of  clergy- 
men, who  always  call  their  wives  their  companions, 
as  if  they  never  were  lawfully  married,  but  only  took 
their  meals  together.)  Hence  you  see  why  such  a 
singular  witchery  hangs  about  the  names  which  de- 
scribe the  homestead  and  the  farm.  Nature,  before 
it  has  been  humanized,  we  describe  by  Roman  words. 


232  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN 

The  mountains,  the  torrents,  the  deserts,  the  rivers, 
the  plains,  the  islands,  the  continents,  and  ///^  oceans, 
—  these  are  Roman,  because  they  describe  Nature 
in  her  wildness,  and  before  man  has  covered  them 
with  heart  memories  and  home  associations.  But 
the  farms,  the  hills,  the  streams,  the  orchards,  the 
groves,  the  brooks,  the  grounds,  the  meadows,  the 
gardens,  and  the  bowers,  —  these  are  all  Saxon,  for 
they  are  fragrant  with  domestic  sympathies  and 
loves.  There  is  a  house  near  by  them,  and  in 
sight,  with  lights  gleaming  through  its  windows, 
"where  the  busy  housewife  plies  her  evening  care." 
The  great  fowls  of  the  air,  that  are  birds  of  prey, 
and  never  domesticate,  —  the  eagles,  the  herons,  and 
the  vultures,  —  have  Roman  names;  but  the  doves, 
the  sparrows,  the  swallows,  the  bobolinks,  the  larks, 
the  wrens,  the  chickadees,  that  pick  the  crumbs  from 
your  door,  and  twitter  under  your  eaves,  and  wake  you 
by  their  minstrelsy  of  a  summer  morning, — these 
are  pure  Saxon,  for  they  catch  the  home  instinct,  and 
reflect  its  loves.  And  the  robin,  though  his  first 
name  is  Roman,  yet  owes  his  addition  of  redbreast 
to  the  same  gentle  and  loving  characteristic.  He 
takes  his  surname  from  the  Saxon,  because  he  builds 
his  nest  and  sings  in  the  old  apple-tree  beside  your 
door.  So  it  is  that  the  pure  old  Saxon  sentiment  of 
reverence  for  woman,  as  woman,  became  the  stem  out 
of  which  the  domestic  virtues  blossomed  forth,  and 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  233 

threw  their  sweetest  fragrancy  and  beauty  about  the 
homestead,  after  the  Roman  empire  had  gone  down 
in  the  mire,  and  the  relations  between  its  men  and 
women  were  polluted  with  lust.  And  the  Saxon 
sentiment  has  thrown  enchantment  over  all  things 
within  its  sphere,  and  made  them  haunt  our  memories 
with  strange  and  witching  music.  As  a  living  poet 
says,  very  beautifully,  — 

"  Old  Saxon  words,  old  Saxon  words,  your  spells  are  round  us 

thrown  : 
Ye  haunt  our  daily  paths  and  dreams  with  a  music  all  your  own. 
Each  one,  in  its  own  power  a  host,  to  fond  remembrance  brings 
The  earliest,  brightest  aspect  back  of  life's  familiar  things. 

Yours  are  the  hills,  the  fields,  the  woods,  the  orchards,  and  the 

streams, 
The  m  and  the  bowers,  that  bask  in  the  sun's  rejoicing 

beams  : 
'Mid  them  our  childhood's  years   were  kept,  our  childhood's 

thoughts  were  reared, 
And  by  your  household  tones  its  joys  were  evermore  endeared. 

We  have  roamed  since  then  where  the  myrtle  bloomed  in  its 

own  unclouded  realms, 
But  our  hearts  return  with  changeless  love  to  the  brave  old 

Saxon  elms  ; 
Where  the  laurel  o'er  its  native  streams  of  a  deathless  glory 

spoke, 
But  we  passed  with  pride  to  the  later  fame  of  the  sturdy  Saxon 

OAK." 


234  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 

For  similar  reasons,  the  Saxon  courage  became 
something  very  different  from  the  brute  ferocity  of 
other  savages.  The  Highland  Celt  fought  from  fealty 
to  his  chieftain  and  his  clan,  and  from  his  innate  love 
of  brutality  and  blood.  The  Saxon  fought  for  land, 
—  land  to  put  his  house  on  *;  and,  having  put  a  wife 
into  it,  he  fought  for  his  home  ;  and  that  breathed 
into  his  courage  a  sublimer  sentiment,  and  lifted  it 
above  the  ferocity  of  the  animal. 

Hence  the  arts  of  peace  flourish  pre-eminently 
under  Saxon  rule.  Nobody  but  a  Yankee  under- 
stands the  full  correlative  meaning  of  those  two 
words,  liberty  and  law.  Saxon  civilization  is  peace- 
ful. Norman  is  warlike.  Our  military  terms  are  for 
the  most  part  Roman  words ;  for  these  are  used  to 
functions  of  government  and  conquest,  and  breathe 
the  spirit  of  the  battle-field.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Saxon  words  take  their  flavor  from  the  household, 
and  preserve  its  aroma,  and  spring  a  long  train  of 
memories  after  them.  As  Mr.  Macaulay  says  of 
reading  Milton,  the  words  suggest  a  great  deal  more 
than  they  mean,  and  carry  you  back  to  your  child- 
hood, to  the  schoolroom,  by  some  magic  you  cannot 
analyze.  None  knew  better  than  Milton  the  secret 
of  this  word-magic.  In  his  controversial  prose  works 
he  builds  up  Latin  sentences  whole  pages  high,  and 
rolls  them  down  upon  his  enemies  like  Jupiter  launch- 
ing from   Olympus   his  thunder  volleys,  which  keep 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN.  235 

on  growling  and  growling  till  they  get  half  way 
round  the  sky.  But  open  "  Paradise  Lost,"  and  if 
you  come  to  a  passage  that  haunts  you  with  its 
witching  music,  and  calls  back  the  hours  when  you 
walked  with  your  betrothed  by  moonlight,  or  when 
you  went  in  rosy  childhood  to  drive  the  cattle, 
brushing  the  clews  from  the  grass,  and  hearing  the 
birds  sing  to  the  sunrise,  I  venture  to  say  that 
two-thirds  of  the  words  are  Saxon,  and  for  that 
reason  have  become  flavored  with  the  home  affections. 
Here  is  a  sentence  of  eighty-nine  words ;  and  just 
seventy-two  of  them  are  Saxon  :  — 

"  With  thee  conversing  I  forget  all  time  ; 
All  seasons,  and  their  change,  all  please  alike. 
Sweet  is  the  breath  of  morn,  her  rising  sweet, 
With  charm  of  earliest  birds  ;  pleasant  the  sun, 
When  first  on  this  delightful  land  he  spreads 
His  orient  beams,  on  herb,  tree,  fruit,  and  flower, 
Glistening  with  dew  :  fragrant  the  fertile  earth 
After  soft  showers  ;  and  sweet  the  coming  on 
Of  grateful  evening  mild  ;  then  silent  night, 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  and  this  fair  moon, 
And  these  the  gems  of  heaven,  her  starry  train." 

Saxon  superstitions,  such  as  existed  more  than  one 
thousand  years  ago  in  Jutland,  have  even  come  clown 
to  us,  and  are  alive  to-day  in  New  England ;  for  ex- 
ample, those  about  the  moon,  and  about  lucky  and 
unlucky  clays.     Mr.    Turner   says    any  peasant   now 


236  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 


would  be  ashamed  of  them.  He  is  mistaken.  Off 
in  Berkshire  County,  which  is  of  pure  native  stock, 
a  farmer  one  day  was  crossing  his  neighbor's  fields, 
and  saw  him  with  a  bag  of  grain,  sitting  down,  and 
waiting  patiently  for  the  lucky  hour  of  sowing. 

"  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  "  said  his  neighbor. 

"  For  ten  minutes  past  two,"  said  he. 

"  And  what  is  to  happen  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  moon  changes."  He  would  not  sow 
ten  minutes  before,  for  fear  of  losing  his  crop.  The 
same  man  probably  would  not  undertake  a  journey 
on  Friday,  or  Freda's  Day,  nor  crawl  under  a  bar 
without  spitting  back,  to  take  off  the  evil  charm.  If 
a  child  is  born  on  such  a  day,  it  will  live;  on  such 
other  day,  it  will  die.  Whatever  you  dream,  on  the 
first  night  of  the  old  moon,  will  be  joyful  to  you  ; 
and  your  luck  for  the  month  depends  upon  your  see- 
ing the  new  moon  on  your  right  hand.  If  you  dream 
of  seeing  an  eagle  fly  over  your  head,  you  will  be  pro- 
moted, —  how  high  depends  on  the  height  of  the 
eagle.  Charms  for  the  cure  of  disease  were  numer- 
ous ;  and  a  man  told  me  once  that  he  relieved  his 
rheumatism  by  one  of  these  charms,  and,  if  I  should 
describe  it,  I  am  afraid  you  would  not  believe  me. 
And  the  same  methods  of  divination  for  discerning  the 
future,  practised  in  Jutland  more  than  one  thousand 
years  ago,  are  good  in  some  parts  of  New  England 
even  till  this  day. 


THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 


237 


But  we  have  not  time  to  explore  this  mine,  though 
a  very  fertile  one. 

What  is  to  be  the  issue  in  America,  of  this  long 
conflict  between  the  Saxon  and  the  Norman,  is  a 
question  already  decided.  It  was  decided  even  before 
our  civil  war,  which  crippled  the  Norman,  and  shat- 
tered his  institutions  in  pieces.  Glance  for  an  instant 
over  the  map,  and  measure  with  your  eye  the  vast 
unsettled  territory  of  the  United  States.  It  extends 
through  eighteen  degrees  of  latitude,  and  occupies 
both  slopes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  —  one  slope 
stretching  east,  to  the  Mississippi ;  the  other  west,  to 
the  Pacific  Sea.  Its  space  is  equal  to  all  the  twenty- 
five  States  east  of  the  Mississippi.  It  has  all  the 
climates  of  all  the  zones,  and  extends  through  the 
realms  of  perpetual  frost  and  perpetual  flowers  ;  its 
rivers  more  majestic  than  those  of  the  East ;  its 
soil  the  richest  in  all  the  world,  -  richer  in  gold 
than  the  sands  of  Pactolus ;  its  trees,  whether  for 
beauty  or  for  use,  of  more  value,  a  thousand  times, 
than  those  that  "  weep  amber  on  the  banks  of  Po." 
The  whole  eastern  part  of  this  region  is  underlaid 
with  coal-mines  ;  and  there  one  day  will  be,  not  only 
the  granaries,  but  the  workshops  and  manufactories 
of  the  world.  In  the  coming  century,  the  seat  of 
commerce  is  to  be  transferred  to  the  western  shore. 
Into  that  region  the  United  States  are  moving  at  the 
rate  of  seventeen   miles  a  year.     And   it   is  a  most 


238  THE  SAXON  AND    THE  NORMAN. 


interesting  fact,  that  the  Northern  tide  outstrips  the 
Southern,  as  two  to  one  ;  carrying  with  it  New  Eng- 
land institutions  and  ideas.  There  is  no  law  of 
nature  which  forbids  serfdom  there,  for  it  existed  on 
the  Norwegian  hills  :  but  there  is  a  law  of  God  that 
will  exclude  it  ;  and  that  is  'the  omnipotence  of  the 
family  institution,  over  feudalism  with  its  elements 
of  weakness  and  decay ;  and  thus  the  Saxon  home 
is  sure  to  cover  these  western  slopes  with  its  sweet 
associations  -and  memories,  and  make  the  whole  range 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  echo  with  the  music  of  the 
Saxon  tongue. 


^n 


POEM  S. 


EMANCIPATION. 

HARK !  through  the  North  a  Spirit  waking  slow, 
And  rousing  like  a  strong  man  after  sleep : 
Its  murmurs  come  like  whirlwinds  speaking  low, 
Ere  yet  they  lift  the  billows  of  the  deep. 
What  though  this  power  is  long  and  slow  to  wake  ! 
Oh  !  ye  are  mad,  its  strength  to  brave  and  dare  ; 
For,  if  its  thunders  from  their  mountains  wake, 
They'll  smite^your  fields,  and  clear  the  northern  air. 
Then  from  the  North,  along  its  whole  frontier, 
A  light  shall  stream  in  columns  to  the  skies, 
And  like  a  new  Aurora  shall  appear 
To  the  whole  land  that  South  in  darkness  lies  ; 
And  while  its  flames  do  shake  their  banners  near, 
Your  slaves  will  hail  them  with  rejoicing  eyes. 
1844. 


241 


"OLD    JOHN    BROWN." 

THEY  call  thee  hot-brained,  crazed,  and  mad 
But  every  word  that  falls 
Goes  straight  and  true,  and  hits  the  mark 

More  sure  than  cannon-balls. 
Through  spectre  forms  of  bogus  law 

It  cuts  its  way  complete  ; 
And  judge  and  jury,  too,  are  tried 
At  God's  great  judgment-seat. 


Old  man,  farewell !     They'll  take  thy  life 

For  dangerous  enough, 
In  these  our  sweetly  piping  times, 

Are  men  of  hero  stuff. 
We  should  tread  soft  above  the  fires 

That  underneath  us  lie  : 
You'll  crack  the  crust  of  compromise, 

And  set  them  spouting  high. 

Where  Henry's  cry  for  "  Liberty  " 

Once  sent  its  shivering  thrill, 
There's  only  room,  six  feet  by  two, 

For  heroes  now  to  fill. 
And  o'er  the  spot  the  years  will  roll, 

As  spring  its  verdure  weaves, 
And  autumn  o'er  the  felon's  grave 

Shakes  down  its  yellow  leaves. 
242 


"  OLD   JOHN  BROWNE  243 

But  not  the  spot  six  feet  by  two 

Will  hold  a  man  like  thee  : 
John  Brown  will  tramp  the  shaking  earth 

From  Blue  Ridge  to  the  sea, 
Till  the  strong  angel  comes  at  last, 

And  ope's  each  dungeon  door, 
And  God's  Great  Charter  holds,  and  waves 

O'er  all  his  humble  poor. 

And  then  the  humble  poor  will  come, 

In  that  far  distant  day, 
And  from  the  felon's  nameless  grave 

They'll  brush  the  leaves  away  ; 
And  gray  old  men  will  point  the  spot, 

Beneath  the  pine-tree  shade, 
As  children  ask  with  streaming  eyes, 

Where  Old  John  Brown  was  laid. 

November,  1859. 


SONG    OF    THE   STARS    AND 
STRIPES. 

WE  see  the  gallant  streamer  yet 
Float  from  the  bastioned  walls  : 
One  hearty  song  for  fatherland 

Before  its  banner  falls  ! 
Last  on  our  gaze  when,  outward  bound, 

We  plough  the  ocean's  foam  ; 
First  on  our  longing  eyes  again, 
To  waft  our  welcome  home. 

Beneath  thy  shade  we've  toiled  in  peace, 

The  golden  corn  we  reap  ; 
We've  taken  home  our  bonny  brides, 

We've  rocked  our  babes  to  sleep  ; 
We  marched  to  front  the  battle  storms 

That  brought  the  invader  nigh, 
When  the  grim  lion  cowered  and  sank 

Beneath  the  eagle's  eye. 

Beneath  the  stars  and  stripes  we'll  keep, 

Come  years  of  weal  or  woe  : 
Close  up  again  the  broken  line, 

And  let  the  traitors  go  ! 
Ho,  brothers  of  the  "  Border  States  "  ! 

We  reach  across  the  line, 
And  pledge  our  faith  and  honor  now, 

As  once  in  Aukl  Lang  Syne. 
244 


SONG   OF  THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES.  24: 

We'll  keep  the  memories  bright  and  green 

Of  all  our  old  renown  : 
We'll  strike  the  traitor  hand  that's  raised 

To  pluck  the  eagle  down. 
Still  shall  it  guard  your  Southern  homes 

From  all  the  foes  that  come  : 
We'll  move  with  you  to  harp  and  flute, 

Or  march  to  fife  and  drum. 

Or,  if  ye  turn  from  us  in  scorn, 

Still  shall  our  nation's  sign 
Roll  out  again  its  streaming  stars 

On  all  the  border  line. 
And  with  the  same  old  rallying  cry, 

Beneath  its  folds  we'll  meet : 
And  they  shall  be  our  conquering  sign. 

Or  be  our  winding-sheet ! 

'Tis  said  that  when  Jerusalem 

Sank  in  her  last  despair, 
A  spectre  sword  hung  gory  red 

Just  o'er  her  in  the  air. 
Ye  that  tear  down  your  country's  flag, 

Look,  where  God's  gathering  ire 
Hangs  in  its  place,  just  o'er  your  heads, 

A  s  word  of  bloody  fire  ! 

March- 


SONG   FOR   JULY   4,    1861. 

STILL  wave  our  streamer's  glorious  folds 
O'er  all  the  brave  and  true, 
Though  ten  dim  stars  have  turned  to  blood 
On  yonder  field  of  blue. 

It  is  our  nation's  judgment-day, 

That  makes  her  stars  to  fall. 
Lo  !  all  the  dead  start  from  their  graves  • 

At  Freedom's  trumpet-call. 

And  in  the  thunders  of  the  storm 

She  speaks,  an  angel  strong: 
"  Now  comes  my  reign  of  righteousness  ; 

Now  ends  the  slavers'  wrong. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  faithful  ones, 

For  now  your  prayers  prevail. 
Ye  faithless  !  hear  the  tramp  of  doom, 

And  dread  the  iron  hail ! 

God's  last  Messiah  comes  apace 

In  Freedom's  awful  name, 
And  parts  the  tribes  to  right  and  left,  — 

To  glory  or  to  shame." 

Then  wave  the  streamer's  glorious  folds 

O'er  all  the  brave  and  true, 
Till  all  its  stars  shine  bright  again 

On  yonder  field  of  blue. 
246 


THE    HOME    GUARD. 

ON  the  nations  bound  in  error, 
Lies  the  ancient  night  of  terror, — 
Lies  the  old  Egyptian  gloom. 
Still  the  blinded  nations  leading, 
Are  the  hosts  of  martyrs  bleeding,  — 
Bleeding  till  the  morning  come. 

Where  the  stars  and  stripes  are  streaming, 
Fall  the  martyrs,  grandly  dreaming 

Of  the  coming  Age  of  Gold  ; 
And  we  write  their  names  in  glory, 
Fighting  in  the  battle  gory, 

Lying  in  their  coffins  cold. 

But  those  other  martyrs'  praises, 
Which  no  trump  of  fame  upraises, 

But  whose  works  their  glory  show,  — 
Parents,  teachers,  wives,  and  daughters, 
Leading  by  the  gentle  waters 

Where  the  trees  of  knowledge  grow.  — 

Faithful  Llome  Guard  of  the  nation, 
In  its  glorious  celebration 

Shall  your  works  forever  shine  ; 
For  they  break  the  night  of  terror, 
And  drive  back  the  ancient  error, 

Leading  in  the  Day  Divine. 
July  4,  1S61. 

247 


HOW   GOLD   MAY   BE   KEPT 
BRIGHT. 

[From  Horace.] 


o 


CRISP  US,  foe  to  sordid  gain  ! 
The  man  whose  heart  is  tender 
Makes  all  the  gold  his  hands  obtain 
Shine  with  redoubled  splendor. 

Thus  Proculeius  lives  in  song, 

And  all  our  love  engages  : 
Fame  bears  him  on  her  wings  along 

The  never-dying  ages. 

For  when,  upon  his  brothers,  Fate 
With  cruel  hand  was  pressing, 

He  shared  with  them  his  own  estate, 
With  all  a  father's  blessing. 

Add  field  to  field,  —  rule  all  the  climes 
Whose  shores  the  sea  is  laving : 

'Tis  nobler  far  to  rule  betimes 
The  soul  that 's  in  thee  craving. 

248 


GOLDEN    MEAN. 

[Translation.     Horace,  Carmen  X.,  Lib.  II.] 

WHILE  the  fierce  winds  above  us  sweep, 
Let  ns,  my  friend,  our  vessel  keep 
Not  on  the  wide  and  surging  deep, 
Nor  near  the  treacherous  shoals. 
To  whom  the  golden  medium  falls, 
He  dwelleth  not  in  ruined  walls, 
Nor  proudly  walks  in  splendid  halls, 
The  mark  of  envious  souls. 

Huge  pines  by  fiercest  blasts  are  blown, 
The  loftiest  towers  come  heaviest  down, 
On  skyward  cliffs  so  bleak  and  brown 

The  thunderbolt  will  ring. 
So  let  us  fear  'mid  fortune's  blaze, 
And  let  us  hope  in  evil  days  : 
Winter  recedes,  and  o'er  his  ways 

Dance  the  gay  hours  of  spring. 

The  ills  of  life  shall  then  retire  : 
Apollo  sometimes  strikes  his  lyre 
To  joyous  notes  ;  nor  in  his  ire 

Doth  always  bend  his  bow. 
Therefore,  amid  thy  troubles  here, 
Bear  bravely  up  with  lofty  cheer; 
And  slack  thy  sails,  and  wisely  fear, 

When  prosperous  breezes  blow. 

May,  1851. 

249 


SERENITY. 

[A  paraphrase  from  Horace.     Carmen  III.,  Lib.  II.] 

MY  friend,  where'er  you  tread  this  scene 
Of  varied  joys  and  cares, 
Preserve  thy  mind  alike  serene 
In  sad  or  gay  affairs. 

Whether  you  live  in  sorrow's  shade, 

Or  on  the  grass  recline 
In  bowers  by  pines  and  poplars  made 

To  quaff  the  generous  wine,  — 

There,  while  the  boughs  above  thy  head 

A  living  roof  weave  high, 
And  purling  brooks  with  quivering  tread 

Run  bounding  gladly  by,  — 

Let  them  bring  wine,  and  sweet  perfume, 

And  roses  fresh  and  gay ; 
For  soon,  like  these,  we  cease  to  bloom, 

And  fade  from  earth  away. 

The  house,  the  grove,  the  costly  field 

Which  yellow  Tiber  laves, 
This  heaped-up  wealth  to  heirs  we  yield, 

And  seek  forgotten  graves. 

250 


SEREXITY. 


The  highest  and  the  humblest  thing, 
The  wealthiest,  poorest,  —  all 

Are  victims  to  the  tyrant  king, 
And  all  alike  must  fall. 

Even  now  the  fatal  lot  we  know 

Is  shaken  in  the  urn  : 
Soon  it  comes  forth,  and  then  we  go 

Whence  we  shall  not  return. 

May,  JS51. 


OLD    ENGLAND   AND    NEW. 

[Written  and  sung  on  board  the  Cunard  steamship  "  Siberia,"  which  sailed 
from  Liverpool  Aug.  20,  1873.] 

OLD  England's  shore  of  summer  green 
Fades  on  the  dark-blue  waters. 
God's  blessing  on  thy  noble  Queen, 

And  all  thy  sons  and  daughters  ! 
The  land  where  holy  martyrs  bled, 

Of  thrilling  song  and  story,  — 
Thy  sun  shines  bright,  and  may  it  shed 
A  blaze  of  endless  glory  ! 


Land  of  the  western  shore  !  we  keep 

Our  filial  hearts  still  near  thee  : 
Our  love  for  thee  grows  strong  and  deep, 

With  all  our  wanderings  weary. 
Above  our  homes  thy  peaceful  bow 

Its  sweetest  hues  is  blending  ; 
Thy  lightnings  round  the  world  that  go, 

Not  bane,  but  bliss,  are  sending. 


Our  gallant  ship  that  walks  the  seas 
From  one  shore  to  the  other,   - 

Oli,  bear  the  olive-boughs  of  peace 
From  brother  back  to  brother  ! 


OLD  ENGLAND  AND  NEW.  253 

God  bless  thy  captain  and  his  men, 

The  waves  thy  pathway  making, 
And  all  who  keep  the  golden  chain 

Of  brotherhood  from  breaking  ! 


ODE. 

[For  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  Dr.  Eliphalet  Nott's  Presidency  at  Union 
College,  Schenectady.] 

WE'VE  wandered  east,  we've  wandered  west," 
Since  through  these  halls  we  strayed 
And  fondly  dreamed  our  waking  dreams 

In  Union's  soothing  shade. 
Now  we  return  with  sandals  worn, 

To  Learning's  ancient  shrine 
Where  busy  memories  start  and  throng 

From  days  of  auld  lang  syne,  — 
The  thronging  memories  fond  and  dear 
Of  auld  lang  syne. 

We've  wandered  east,  we've  wandered  west, 

On  prairie,  sea,  and  shore  ; 
And  some  have  laid  their  weary  forms 

Where  life's  last  dream  is  o'er. 
They  walked  with  us  through  Learning's  bowers, 

And  plucked  its  "  gowans  fine  :  " 
They  girded  on  their  armor  bright, 

With  us  in  days  lang  syne. 
We'll  breathe  for  them  one  pensive  strain 
Of  auld  lang  syne. 

We've  wandered  east,  we've  wandered  west, 

O'er  many  a  shifting  scene  : 
This  spot,  in  all  the  lengthening  past, 

Has  only  grown  more  green  ; 
254 


ODE.  255 


For  here  our  father,  friend  and  sage, 

With  locks  of  silvery  shine, 
Kept  watch  above  our  youthful  ways, 

In  days  of  auld  lang  syne. 
We've  kept  his  memory  bright  and  dear 
Of  auld  lang  syne. 

Borne  onward  by  the  solemn  sea, 

From  time's  receding  shore, 
Union,  thy  light,  from  which  we  steered, 

Shall  greet  our  eyes  no  more. 
Still  thou,  the  Pharos  of  the  waves, 

Shalt  o'er  the  waters  shine, 
And  bear  upon  thy  beaming  front 

One  name  from  years  lang  syne,  — 
One  ever  dear  remembered  name. 
Of  auld  lang  syne. 


o 


HYMN. 

[Written  for,  and  sung  at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Sears,  in  Wayland,  Feb.  20, 
1839-] 

UR  fathers,  where  are  they, 
Who  here  in  ancient  time 
Came  with  the  faltering  steps  of  age, 

Or  manhood's  glorious  prime? 
Oh  !  some  in  yonder  peaceful  tombs 

Their  long,  last  sabbath  keep, 
Where  from  the  idle,  hurrying  throng 
The  mourner  turns  to  weep. 

Along  these  solemn  aisles 

Where  floats  the  song  of  praise, 
Do  not  their  lingering  spirits  hear 

Their  old  and  cherished  lays  ? 
And  when  the  fervent  voice  of  prayer 

To  God  for  favor  calls, 
Oh  !  blend  they  not  their  spirit  tones 

That  "  talk  along  the  walls  "  ? 

Their  children,  where  are  they, 

Who  now  their  footsteps  tread  ? 
Walk  they  in  bonds  of  love  and  peace, 

To  join  the  pious  dead  ? 
Come  blooming  youth,  come  reverend  age, 

While  yet  your  years  revolve, 
And  take,  within  this  holy  fane, 

The  high  and  pure  resolve. 
256 


A    GREETING    FROM    THE    SUNDAY 
SCHOOL. 

[Written  for  the  Christmas  Festival  of  the  Sunday  School  at  Westcn,  Dec. 
25,  1875.] 

HO,  teachers,  friends,  and  parents  dear, 
Who  join  our  festive  throng, 
We  send  you  greeting  as  we  sing 

Our  merry  Christinas  song! 
The  song  which  here  we  sing  to-night 

Shall  be  the  glad  refrain 
Of  that  which  swept  the  heavenly  lyres 
O'er  Bethlehem's  starlit  plain. 

O  ye  whose  selfish  hearts  are  chilled 

Beneath  the  world's  cold  blight, 
Make  room  !  make  room  !  for  lo  !  He  comes  — 

A  Saviour  comes  to-niarht. 
Hold  up  to  Him  your  waning  lamps, 

To  fill  with  oil  once  more, 
Till,  from  the  fount  of  Love  Divine, 

Your  souls  are  brimming  o'er. 

And  ye  who  bear  the  ills  of  life, 

And  faint  beneath  its  load, 
Grown  weary  of  your  painful  toil 

To  climb  the  heavenly  road, 

261 


HYMN. 

[For  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  settlement  of   Rev.  Joseph  Field,  D.D., 
over  the  First  Parish  in  Weston.] 

FATHER  of  mercies  !  in  the  radiant  morning 
Thy  youthful  servant  started  on  his  way  ; 
And  prayers  were  breathed  for  light  and  grace  adorning, 
And  that  his  strength  be  equal  to  his  day. 

And  Thou  hast  answered.     Fifty  years  of  blessing 

Have  fallen  o'er  us  gently  as  the  rain  : 
Thy  promised  grace,  thy  heavenly  peace,  possessing, 

Here  in  thy  house,  and  in  our  homes  again. 

Father,  we  thank  Thee.     Through  the  fruitful  meadows. 

Still  guide  the  flock  and  pastor  by  thy  hand, 
And  grant  him,  walking  through  the  evening  shadows, 

Still  brighter  openings  towards  the  Promised  Land, 

Till,  passing  on  through  earth's  brief  joys  and  trials, 
Pastor  and  people  join  the  immortal  throng, 

Who  sweeter  incense  waft  from  golden  vials, 
And  worship  Thee  in  their  unending  song. 

February,  1865. 

258 


GOLDEN-WEDDING   HYMN. 


T 


WO  summer  streams  were  flowing 


Bright  in  the  morning  sun; 
And  in  their  course,  with  gentle  force, 
They  mingled  into  one.1 

Now  flows  the  blended  river 

Beneath  the  western  sky  ; 
And  manifold  the  hues  of  gold 

Calm  on  its  bosom  lie. 

So,  friends  beloved  and  honored, 

Your  stream  of  life  has  flowed  ; 
And  now  may  rest  upon  its  breast 

The  golden  peace  of  God ! 

Warm  hearts  are  beating  round  you ; 

And  in  our  fervent  song, 
Here  do  we  pray,  your  closing  day 

May  linger  late  and  long ; 

That  warmest  benedictions 

May  soothe  its  latest  stage, 
And  wreathe  with  flowers  of  summer  hours 

The  snowy  crown  of  age  ; 

1  The  opening  stanza  is  not  a  literal  quotation,  but  is  in  close  imitation  of 
Brainard's  very  beautiful  Epithalamium,  commencing,  — 

"  I  saw  two  clouds  at  morning." 

259 


o 


HYMN. 

[Written  for,  and  sung  at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Sears,  in  Wayland,  Feb'.  20, 
1839-] 

UR  fathers,  where  are  they, 
Who  here  in  ancient  time 
Came  with  the  faltering  steps  of  age, 

Or  manhood's  glorious  prime  ? 
Oh  !  some  in  yonder  peaceful  tombs 

Their  long,  last  sabbath  keep, 
Where  from  the  idle,  hurrying  throng 
The  mourner  turns  to  weep. 

Along  these  solemn  aisles 

Where  floats  the  song  of  praise, 
Do  not  their  lingering  spirits  hear 

Their  old  and  cherished  lays  ? 
And  when  the  fervent  voice  of  prayer 

To  God  for  favor  calls, 
Oh  !  blend  they  not  their  spirit  tones 

That  "  talk  along  the  walls  "  ? 

Their  children,  where  are  they, 

Who  now  their  footsteps  tread  ? 
Walk  they  in  bonds  of  love  and  peace, 

To  join  the  pious  dead  ? 
Come  blooming  youth,  come  reverend  age. 

While  yet  your  years  revolve, 
And  take,  within  this  holy  fane, 

The  high  and  pure  resolve. 
256 


A    GREETING   FROM   THE   SUNDAY 
SCHOOL. 


H 


[Written  for  the  Christmas  Festival  of  the  Sunday  School  at  Westcn,  Dec. 
1875.] 

O,  teachers,  friends,  and  parents  clear, 
Who  join  our  festive  throng, 
We  send  you  greeting  as  we  sing 

Our  merry  Christmas  song! 
The  sons:  which  here  we  sing  to-ni^ht 

Shall  be  the  glad  refrain 
Of  that  which  swept  the  heavenly  lyres 
O'er  Bethlehem's  starlit  plain. 

O  ye  whose  selfish  hearts  are  chilled 

Beneath  the  world's  cold  blight, 
Make  room  !  make  room  !  for  lo  !  He  comes 

A  Saviour  comes  to-night. 
Hold  up  to  Him  your  waning  lamps, 

To  fill  with  oil  once  more, 
Till,  from  the  fount  of  Love  Divine, 

Your  souls  are  brimming  o'er. 

And  ye  who  bear  the  ills  of  life, 

And  faint  beneath  its  load, 
Grown  weary  of  your  painful  toil 

To  climb  the  heavenly  road, 

261 


262    A    GREETING  FROM   THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL. 

Good  cheer!  good  cheer!  He  comes  —  He  comes, 

Your  pain  and  grief  to  share  ; 
For  He  who  reigns  in  glory  now 

Has  borne  the  cross  ye  bear. 

Ho,  children  !  sing,  and  clap  your  hands, 

And  lift  your  notes  of  praise 
To  Him  whose  heart  beats  warm  with  yours, 

In  childhood's  winsome  ways. 
He  came  your  joyous  times  to  know, — 

The  babe  of  heavenly  birth ; 
For  He  who  reigns  in  glory  now 

Was  once  a  child  on  earth. 

Hail,  Santa  Claus  !  whose  hand  to-night 

Brings  tokens  rich  and  free  : 
The  fruits  that  grow  in  sunniest  climes 

Hang  on  the  Christmas-tree. 
Good-will  and  Faith  and  Hope  and  Love 

Its  bending  branches  bear. 
Come,  let  us  pluck  the  healing  leaves 

And  golden  clusters  there. 


CALM    AT    SEA, 

[Off  Cohasset  Beach,  July  8,  1847.] 

YE  spirits  of  the  air  and  wave, 
Oh  !  whither  are  ye  fled? 
All  nature  sleeps  ;  nor  only  sleeps, 

But,  like  a  corpse,  lies  dead. 
Across  the  charmed  and  glassy  sea 

No  morning  zephyr  strays  : 
The  sun,  with  face  of  blood-red  hue, 
Looks  angry  through  the  haze. 

The  sky  above,  and  the  sky  below, 

With  rival'fires  are  seen  ; 
And  midway  in  this  awful  space 

Our  vessel  hangs  between. 
But  we  move  !  not  o'er  the  heaving  main, 

Where  cool  sea-breezes  blow, 
But  we  're  sinking  down,  we  're  sinking  down, 

To  lodge  in  that  sky  below. 


Look  yonder  !  for  some  spectre  moves 

In  terror  o'er  the  sea  : 
Beneath  his  wings  the  waves  look  black, 

And  quiver  frightfully. 
He  comes  !  he  comes  !  our  vessel  scuds 

Before  his  threatening  ire  ; 
And  from  our  prow,  on  either  side, 

Roll  floods  of  foaming  fire. 


264  CALM  AT  SEA. 


He  smites  the  air,  and  from  their  cells 

Rush  out  the  shrieking  gales  : 
They  catch  the  canvas  as  they  come, 

And  flap  the  bellying  sails. 
Across  the  noon  his  ghastly  form 

Its  baleful  shadow  flings  : 
He  lifts  the  spray,  and  through  the  air 

He  shakes  it  from  his  wines. 


Ah,  treacherous  calm !  like  that  which  comes 

O'er  souls  that  sleep  in  sin, 
What  time  the  passions  cease  to  stir, 

And  stillness  reigns  within. 
I  thought  my  sins  removed  ;  I  felt 

Their  power  within  me  die  : 
I  thought  the  peace  of  souls  redeemed 

Came  sweetly  from  on  high. 

And  then,  alas  !  they  woke  again, 

And  raged  without  control  : 
Storms  that  had  seemed  forever  hushed 

Swept  o'er  my  darkened  soul ; 
O'er  the  dead  waves  of  deep  desire 

Some  dark  temptation  came  ; 
And  so  my  bark  was  tossed  again 

On  waves  of  rolling  flame. 


Methinks  that  on  this  solemn  scene, 
And  at  this  thoughtful  hour, 

Where  ever-changing  forms  do  preach 
God's  never-changing  power : 


CALM  AT  SEA.  265 


While  from  the  quickly  pulsing  waves, 

The  loud  sea-anthems  roll,  — 
A  more  prevailing  prayer  might  rise 

From  the  heavenward  breathing  soul :  — 

Send  then,  O  God,  thy  cherubim 

All  fragrant  with  thy  love, 
And  let  their  whitely-flashing  wings 

Around  my  spirit  move  ; 
There  let  them  breathe  no  treacherous  calm, 

But  breathe  a  holy  rest 
Till  thy  glorious  heavens  see  themselves 

In  my  clear  and  tranquil  breast. 


DIRGE. 

FAREWELL,  brother!  deep  and  lowly 
Rest  thee  on  thy  bed  of  clay. 
Kindred  saints,  and  angels  holy, 

Bore  thy  heavenward  soul  away. 
Sad,  we  gave  thee  to  that  number 

Laid  in  yonder  icy  halls, 
Where  above  thy  peaceful  slumber 
Many  a  shower  of  sorrow  falls. 

Hear  our  prayer,  O  God  of  glory, 

Lowly  breathed  in  sorrow's  song ! 
Bleeding  hearts  lie  bare  before  Thee, 

Come,  in  holy  trust  made  strong. 
Hark !  a  voice  moves  nearer,  stronger, 

From  the  shadowy  land  ye  dread,  — ■ 
"Mortals  !  mortals  !  seek  no  longer 

Those  that  live,  among  the  dead." 

Farewell,  brother  !  soon  we  meet  thee 

Where  no  cloud  of  sorrow  rolls  ; 
For  glad  tidings  float,  how  sweetly ! 

From  the  glorious  land  of  souls. 
Death's  cold  gloom  —  it  parts  asunder  : 

Lo  !  the  folding  shades  are  gone. 
Mourner,  upward  !  yonder,  yonder, 

"  God's  broad  day  comes  pouring  on  !  " 

266 


GUARDIAN   ANGELS. 

[Written  by  the  bedside  of  a  very  sick  lady,  who  seemed  in  a  sweet  sleep.] 

AS  in  the  garden's  gloomy  shades, 
To  Jesus  bending  low, 
They  came,  and  from  his  burdened  soul 

Rolled  off  its  weight  of  woe  ; 
So  now  they  come  whene'er  we  droop 

With  sickness,  care,  or  pain, 

And  pour  a  cool,  assuaging  balm 

Through  every  burning  vein. 

At  night  I  seek  my  weary  couch, 

Now  rough  with  many  a  thorn, 
And  pray,  while  sleep  forsakes  my  eyes, 

"  Oh,  speed  the  wings  of  morn  !  " 
But  ere  the  light  from  morning  land 

First  through  my  window  gleams, 
The  guardian  spirit  softly  comes, 

And  prompts  my  pleasing  dreams. 

When  the  frail  robe  thy  spirit  wears, 

At  length  is  worn  away. 
The  angel  band  shall  lead  thee  on, 

And  smooth  thine  upward  way  ; 
And  thou  wilt  rise,  thou  weary  one, 

And  be  an  angel  too, 
And  bear  the  same  sweet  ministries 

Which  now  they  bear  to  you. 

267 


IN   SICKNESS. 

THERE  is  an  hour  of  silent  prayer : 
I've  felt  its  joys  serene, 
When,  Lord,  thy  face  beamed  like  a  sun, 

With  not  a  cloud  between  : 
'Twas  when  my  passions  lulled  to  rest, 

And  all  my  pride  was  still, 
Thy  peace  descended  as  the  dew 
Falls  soft  on  Hermon's  hill. 

If  here  amidst  the  storms  of  life, 

Shut  in  this  house  of  clay, 
Such  gleams  of  glory  struggle  through 

From  thine  eternal  day, 
Oh,  what  the  peace  that  o'er  the  heart 

Its  golden  dews  distils, 
Beneath  that  morn  that  ever  reigns 

O'er  all  the  heavenly  hills  ! 

But  here  the  clouds  will  cast  their  gloom 

Across  my  sunlit  skies  ; 
Dark  thoughts,  like  flocks  of  evil  birds, 

Out  of  my  heart  will  rise. 
And  yet  I  know  thine  angels  come, 

An  ever-shining  throng, 
To  guard  from  evil,  and  to  make 

My  spirit  bright  and  strong. 

268 


IN  SICKNESS.  269 


Lord,  send  thy  pure,  baptizing  fire 

To  cleanse  my  heart  anew ; 
And  o'er  my  spirit  let  thy  grace 

Descend  like  heavenly  dew. 
Come  as  thy  Spirit  came  of  old, 

Soft  on  the  rushing  breeze, 
And  fit  me  for  those  "  heavenly  troops 

And  sweet  societies." 

July  19,  1847. 


AWAY  FROM  CHURCH. 

FATHER  Divine  !  thy  glorious  face. 
That  beamed  so  bright  erewhile, 
Now  seems  behind  the  gathering  clouds 

To  hide  its  gracious  smile. 
How  heavy  o'er  my  couch  of  care 

These  sabbath  hours  have  flown  ! 
Far  from  the  meekly  gathering  flock, 
Their  pastor  droops  alone. 

'Tis  not  the  sufferings  Thou  dost  send, 

'Tis  not  the  pain  I  bear, 
That  hangs  upon  my  drooping  heart 

This  heavy  load  of  care  ; 
'Tis  not  the  opening  gate  of  death, 

The  Christian's  sweet  release, 
Through  which  thy  beckoning  angel  calls 

Up  to  the  land  of  peace. 

But  while  those  sweetly  sounding  chimes 

Here  through  my  windows  roll, 
Thy  word,  that  must  not  pass  my  lips,  - 

Lies  burning  in  my  soul. 
And  oh  !  another  thought  than  that 

Comes  o'er  my  spirit  now, 
Deepening  the  shade  that  sickness  flings 

Across  my  throbbing  brow. 

70 


A  WA  Y  FROM  CHURCH.  2  7  1 

For  ere  the  cheek  had  lost  its  glow, 

Or  the  arm  had  lost  its  power. 
Oh !  did  I  serve  Thee  as  I  ought, 

And  seize  the  golden  hour  ? 
Mine  was  the  sorrowing  to  console, 

The  sinful  to  reprove  ; 
Did  I  give  my  people  all  my  strength 

And  undivided  love  ? 


Now,  too,  the  Past  throws  wide  its  doors, 

As  Memory  turns  the  key, 
And  shows  how  poor  are  all  the  works 

My  hands  have  done  for  Thee. 
Then  up,  and  up,  through  golden  air, 

While  the  earth  wanes  below, 
I  see  thy  saints,  that  cast  their  crowns, 

In  white  robes  bending  low. 


How  glad  they  move  on  winged  feet, 

Thy  mandates  to  fulfil ! 
No  self  in  them  to  be  denied,  — 

Theirs  but  the  Eternal  Will. 
Oh  !  in  these  long  and  silent  hours, 

Send  thy  baptizing  love, 
That  I  on  earth  may  do  thy  will, 

As  they  in  heaven  above. 

Oh !  now  I  see  a  Father'slove, 

And  not  a  Father's  frown  : 
Thou  mak'st  the  burning  tongue  be  still, 

And  the  hands  hang  feebly  down. 


272  AWAY  FROM  CHUR CH. 


For  in  thy  name  the  tongue  must  speak, 

And  in  that  name  alone  ; 
That  feeble  hand  thy  glory  serve, 

But  never  serve  its  own. 

My  God  !  thy  high  and  pure  designs 

I  seek  not  to  explore  : 
Thine  is  my  strength  if  here  restored, 

Thine  when  my  life  is  o'er. 
Thine  through  these  lingering  days  I'll  live, 

And  thine  in  meekness  die  ; 
And  in  my  Father's  folding  arms, 

Now  like  a  child  I  lie. 
1862. 


SHOW    US    THE   FATHER." 

SHOW  us  the  Father  !     Lift  thine  eye 
And  bend  thy  gaze  above, 
Where,  mild  and  clear,  the  evening  star 

Sends  clown  its  look  of  love  ; 
When  sinking  Day  resigns  once  more 

The  fields  he  brightly  won, 
And  Night,  with  slow  and  solemn  pomp, 
O'er  her  wide  realm  moves  on. 

Show  us  the  Father!     Now  the  sun 

Sinks  in  his  "golden  grave," 
And  weary  whirlwinds  droop  their  wings 

Upon  the  peaceful  wave. 
The  land  and  sea  unite  to  raise 

Their  grateful  evening  hymn  ; 
While  Nature's  altar-fires  burn  bright, 

Devotion's  fire  burns  dim. 

Show  us  the  Father  !     Beauty  flings 

Her  banner  on  the  air, 
And  Earth,  from  all  her  sombre  heights, 

Sends  up  her  evening  prayer. 
Summer's  low  anthems  sweetly  breathe 

From  harps  of  heavenly  frame  : 
Comes  there  no  sound  upon  thine  ear, 

To  speak  the  Father's  name  ? 

273 


274  "SHOW  US    THE  FATHER." 

Oh  !  if  the  earth-bound  spirit  feels 

No  presence  from  above. 
Turn  to  that  everlasting  page, 

Bright  with  a  Father's  love. 
Close  the  wide  world  of  glory  out, 

Of  sea  and  earth  and  air; 
And,  having  shut  thy  closet  door, 

Oh  !  meet  the  Father  there. 

1836. 


TWO   SPIRIT   WORLDS. 

THERE  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign;  " 
Their  saintly  minds  in  heaven's  pure  light 
Cleave  not  to  earth  again. 

No  winter  storms  in  their  abode, 

No  blight,  and  no  decay  : 
Their  sunshine  is  the  smile  of  God, 

That  makes  eternal  day. 

How  young  they  grow,  as  o'er  them  still 

The  endless  years  roll  on  ! 
How  strong  they  grow  to  do  God's  will, 

And  live  to  Him  alone  ! 

Another  spirit  land,  I  trow, 

Vexed  with  our  mean  affairs, 
Lies  close  upon  earth's  confines  low, 

And  meddles  with  its  cares. 

The  "  carnal  mind"  still  to  them  clings, 

Is  with  them  there  as  here  ; 
And  so,  with  endless  gossipings, 

They  mingle  in  our  sphere. 

Friend  of  my  youth  !  who  here  in  time 

Put  on  thy  robes  of  white, 
Thy  home  is  on  those  heights  sublime, 

Amon<r  the  sons  of  Light. 


275 


276  TWO  SPIRIT   WORLDS. 

Not  mingling  in  our  vulgar  noise, 
Thy  cheery  tones  we  hear, 

But  mingling  in  the  "  still  small  voice  " 
That  charms  my  inward  ear. 

July  30,  1S75. 


MY    PSALM. 

OTHOU  most  present  in  our  paths 
When  least  thy  steps  we  see  ! 
Amid  these  wrecks  of  earthly  hopes 
I  breathe  my  prayer  to  Thee. 

What  though  this  house  thy  hand  has  built 

Must  in  these  ruins  fall ! 
My  soul  shall  rise,  sustained  by  Thee, 

Serene  above  them  all. 

And  pain,  which  in  the  long,  long  hours 

Keeps  on  by  night  and  day, 
Through  these  fast  crumbling  walls  to  Thee 

Finds  a  new  opening  way  ; 

For  through  the  rents  already  made, 

I  see  thy  glorious  face, 
And  songs  unheard  by  mortal  ears 

Chant  thy  redeeming  grace. 

Oh  !  build  anew  this  mortal  frame, 

And  make  it  serve  Thee  still, 
Or  make  these  ministries  of  pain 

Their  blessed  end  fulfil, 

That,  held  and  chastened  by  thy  hand, 

I  yet  may  come  to  Thee, 
Subdued  and  ripened  for  the  work 

Of  immortality. 


277 


278  MY  PSALM. 


For  there  upon  the  immortal  shores, 
The  throngs  in  white  array 

Came  from  these  ministries  of  pain, 
To  serve  Thee  night  and  day. 
June  18,  1875. 


i.i 


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